Make This Last
by Septembrisms
Summary: "Some love stories aren't epic novels; some are short stories. But that doesn't make them any less filled with love." Completed May/2011. CHAPTER 1 EDITED DECEMBER 27th, 2011
1. Chapter 1

Hi! I've been working on this story for a while now, and I don't know if I want to post all of it, because it's pretty rough, to say the least, but I thought I might as well, just to see what people thought. I love this movie, and I love the story of the actual event. I tried to keep as much fact laced into this as I possibly could, so at times it'll probably be a little sketchy fact-wise. Enjoy!

**EDIT DECEMBER, 2011: Hey again. I hope everyone had a good Christmas. I'm bored, and it's the holidays, so I'm gonna do a bit of editing on these chapters. I spent a few days re-reading some of it, and Jesus. The three (long as hell) years it took me to write this made a pretty big difference in my writing. So yeah. I'll be kicking around a bit for a while. I might also add in a few new chapters if I'm feeling ambitious. **

Colorado Springs, Colorado, 1979.

I hated beer. It was something that I could never get into the habit of drinking, no matter how much I ever drank it. Somehow, though, I found myself standing with a glass of it clutched in my hand. I looked down at it and sighed deeply. A drunk guy had handed it to me a few moments earlier with a slurred, "I bought this for you, babe, enjoy!" and then he disappeared into thin air. I couldn't even give it back to him. I held my breath and took a gulp. Gross. Gross as hell.

"Can I buy you something else?" a voice said behind me. I turned. The voice belonged to a friendly-looking guy. He was smiling at me in a harmless sort of way.

"No, thanks."

"Come on, now. Don't be difficult. It looks like you're not really enjoying that. C'mon, just let me pay for you to have a drink that you actually like."

I continued to give him a look of deep skepticism. "Did you want it?"

"Maybe," he said, laughing, "But it's a little rude to just walk up to someone and ask if you can have their drink."

I nodded slowly and thrust the beer him. He took it gingerly and toasted me with a grin on his face before taking a deep drink. "I guess it's my lucky day that you're not a fan of beer. How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing," I told him. "It was a gift."

He looked confused. "A gift? Are you here with someone?"

"Nope. Some guy just gave it to me out of the goodness of his heart," I replied.

"Is that so? Point him out to me."

I scanned the bar, searching for the mess who had handed me the beer. I spotted him sitting with another group of guys who looked in much better shape than he did. "Right over there," I said, nodding in the direction of the table.

"You're serious? That one in the middle, there?"

I nodded. "Yep."

He laughed loudly. "No way! That's one of my buddies! That's Pav! Come on, come over and meet him!"

I felt absolutely mortified as the guy dragged me over to the table, where all the guys sitting there were watching us come over. The drunken guy, Pav, looked up and grinned at me.

"Need another cold one, sweetheart?"

"You misjudged her, Pav. She's not a fan of beer," the guy informed him.

"No shit, Bah? She doesn't like beer? What's your name, baby?" He got to his feet and threw an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his chest. He smelled vaguely of whiskey and sweat.

I was uncomfortably aware of everyone at the table looking at me. "Victoria," I told him.

"Vic, huh? Well, how old are you, Vic?"

"I'm twenty-one," I said nervously.

"Hey—how about that, me too! What do you think of hockey players, honey?" Pav was breathing a steady stream of alcohol breath into my face.

Trying to lean away from him, I answered, "What about them?"

"I don't know. Just in general. What do you think of them?"

I shrugged. "Are you a hockey player?"

Pav grinned. "Pride of the United States of America, baby! We're all on the national team. You ever sleep with a famous guy before?"

"Alright, alright." The guy I was originally talking to stood up. "C'mon, Pav. I think it's time that you went back up to your room, buddy, huh?"

Pav slumped against me briefly before turning to the other guy. "Okay, Bah, I don't have time for your nonsense tonight. I'm not in the mood to take your shit on this night, Bah. I'm sorry. But it's the truth, man. I love you, but it's how I'm feeling right now."

The other guy, presumably named Bah, laughed. "Okay, buddy. Sorry about that. I guess I'll have to go tell that girl who wanted to meet you up in the room to head home, huh?"

"There's a girl in the room. No shit?"

"No shit, Pav. Get up there, tiger."

Immediately, Pav's arms dropped from my shoulders and he turned and walked out of the bar. Bah grinned after him. "Easier than I thought. Sorry about him, Vic."

I grinned at him. "Thanks."

"Bah, I swear to God, if you were serious, I think I want to become better friends with you," another guy said with a grin.

Bah looked amused. "Do you honestly think that I'd do that for someone else? Besides, Pav is in no shape to be accommodating for any ladies tonight. By the time he gets up to his room, he'll be ready to pass out, believe me. He's a lightweight." All the guys at the table laughed.

Another guy walked up, carrying two more pitchers of beer. "Alright, boys. I'm expecting you to pay me back for these—" He paused, looking over at me. "Victoria?"

I was confused. This guy looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place his face. "Hey," I said awkwardly. "How's it going?"

He grinned at me. "You don't know who I am, do you?" I shook my head, embarrassed. "Rob Maclanahan?"

"Oh yeah," I said, remembering. Rob Maclanahan was the kind of guy who I routinely saw at parties or bars, had never spoken to, but we knew each other by name. All I knew about him was that he played hockey and that his family had a lot of money. "How are you? Congratulations on making the team—that's great for you."

Rob grinned. "Thanks. Yeah, it's pretty great. What're you doing here in Colorado?"

"I'm supposed to be visiting my friend," I told him. "Do you know Terry Miller?"

He thought for a minute, and then nodded. "Sort of. I've seen her around a few times. She's kind of crazy, right?"

I laughed. "Yeah, kind of. I'm guessing that she's out somewhere else tonight. I called her earlier and left her a message saying I'd be here but somehow I haven't seen her once." I shrugged.

"Shitty," Rob said. "So you're just going back to Minneapolis afterwards?"

"Yep, the day after tomorrow. Whether or not I see Terry, I guess."

The guy sitting nearest me grabbed my arm and yanked me down into an empty chair beside him at the table. "Well, until then, you can party with us, huh? What do you think, boys?"

A few of the guys made noises of approval. Rob sat down beside me. "Victoria..." he began, and he was immediately cut off.

"Call her Vic, Mac, Jesus Christ!"

Rob looked surprised. "I didn't know you liked to be called that, Vic, sorry." I didn't, but I felt like it was too late to say anything. "Anyway, Vic, let me introduce you to the boys. You already know Bah, I guess." He pointed to the guy beside him. "You should maybe recognise a few of these guys. They go to the U. See, here," he pointed at a burly looking guy that I didn't recognise, "this is Phil Verchota." He looked at me as if to ask if I knew Phil. "No? Okay... well, how about Strobel? Eric Strobel? Or Buzz Schneider?" I didn't recognise Eric or Buzz either. Rob shook his head. "Don't you get out to any hockey games?"

I laughed and shook my head. "No, not really."

All of them looked at me in disbelief. "We'll address that later," Rob said slowly. "Okay, so what about Janny? Steve Janaszak?"

I shook my head once again, feeling stupid.

Rob said, "Well, I guess we're out of luck introducing you to people you recognise... So here's Dave Christian, he goes to school in North Dakota, and Mark Johnson, from Wisconsin." I smiled at each of them in turn.

"So, now that you're all introduced, what can we get you to drink?" Buzz asked, putting an arm around my shoulders.

I shook my head. "I'm good. I have to drive back to my hotel tonight, so I shouldn't be doing any more drinking."

"Hey—come on. You got stood up by your own friend. We're getting you something to drink." Rob got up. "Have some of our beer while I go get some shots for us, alright?" He walked towards the bar.

"You think he knows you don't like beer?" Bah asked, grinning across the table at me.

"I still can't drink. I have to drive later," I grumbled, realizing that I was being a bit of a buzz-kill.

One of the other guys, Mark Johnson, leaned in. "Look, I'm designated driving tonight. I could probably give you a lift back to your hotel if you wanted."

"See? There you go. Now you're free to do whatever you want."

I thought about it. There was always the chance that these boys were just trying to get an easy lay out of me, but something told me that it would be fine. They seemed harmless enough, and I was smart enough to keep my wits about me, even when I was drinking, so when Rob came back, I started going shot for shot with Phil Verchota... and basically, the night went downhill from there.

The next thing I knew, I was in the reclined passenger seat of a car. My car. I sucked in a deep breath, and looked around. Mark Johnson was driving, a peaceful smile on his face.

"Wha—?" I tried to sit up straighter, but when I did, the car started to spin slightly and I leaned back.

"Hey—you woke up. I was hoping we wouldn't have to carry you back into the hotel. How are you feeling? Still out of it?"

"We?"

"Oh, me and Janny. He's following us in my car so I can drive back to my hotel. How are you feeling?" he asked again.

"I'm fine. Where're we going? Your hotel?" I could hear my speech slurring.

Mark looked over at me. "No, we're going to your hotel, to drop you off. Are you alright? Would you need to stay at my room? If you felt like you needed help I guess I could do that."

I started to say something, but my eyelids started to feel heavy and I leaned my head against the window, fading out of consciousness for the second time.

When I came to again, I was being carried in a very awkward way, with my neck bent backwards over someone's arm and my arms and one of my legs dangling.

"Jesus, Janny, carry her right. Have you ever held a baby?"

"The extra hundred pounds or so makes her not a baby, Johnson."

"I'm not... fat."

"Whoa, was that her? Is she awake?"

They were silent for a minute, waiting for me to say something else. When I didn't, Mark said, "Just toss her on the bed, Janny."

I was literally tossed onto a bed, my head bouncing off of the headboard.

"Jesus, Janny!"

"What, you said to—"

"Have you ever taken care of a drunk person before? She could throw up all over herself!"

"Well, what do you suggest I do?"

"Put her the right way on the bed, under the blankets."

Janny sighed heavily. "Fine. Pick her up."

I felt myself being lifted off the bed again. There was a rustling sound, and then I was set down again and covered with a stiff blanket. "Roll her on her side, Janny," Mark said.

"What for?"

"If she throws up and she's on her back, she'll choke. Just roll her over."

"Well, who says she's going to throw up?"

"Just listen. The sooner we get this done, the sooner you can go."

I was rolled over onto my side. "What, you aren't coming back to the hotel?"

"No, I think I should probably stay here and watch out for her. She's in pretty rough condition."

"Johnson, we don't even know this girl!"

"Ah, that doesn't matter. You can leave if you want. Take my car," I heard the jingling of keys, "and just come back for me tomorrow."

"Alright. I guess I'll see ya, Johnson."

"Goodnight."

He moved around in the room for a few minutes, placing something beside the bed and then the room went silent.

When I came to again after what seemed like two or three minutes, the first thing I noticed was how bright it was. "Oh, my God. Turn the lights off." I grumbled, covering my head with a pillow.

"Sorry," a voice directly beside me said, "the sky does that during the day."

I pushed myself up, looking around. Mark Johnson was sitting on the floor, his legs stretched out in front of him. "Did you sleep there?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Sort of. I would have gone up on the bed, but I didn't want to get hit with puke, or for you to think I was trying something." He smiled in a tired sort of way.

I noticed for the first time, a garbage can sitting in front of Mark. "Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. I can't believe you stayed here."

"Don't worry about it. You were actually pretty funny." He grinned.

I clapped a hand to my head. "What did I say to you?"

He thought for a moment, running and hand through his hair, and then smiled. "Well, around five, you rolled over and said that we should get married, because our last names are so similar that you wouldn't have to worry about it being too different."

"Jesus," I said. "My last name is Sommers. And yours is Johnson. Oh noooo."

Mark grinned again. "Yeah, I didn't think it made too much sense either."

I was mortified. My only consolation was that I probably would never see Mark Johnson again.


	2. Chapter 2

Two days later, I was back in Minneapolis. I had been calling Terry's parents' house in Colorado the entire time I had been there, and they always said she wasn't there. I phoned her apartment in Minneapolis when I got home, and she picked up on the sixth ring.

"Hellah?"

"Terry? You're _here_?"

"Last time I checked. Who is this?"

"It's Victoria... I thought you were going to be in Colorado until next week! I went down there to surprise you, but you weren't there!"

Terry laughed. "I was in Colorado. Well, for the last four days I've been here. You should have told me that you were coming there, I would have stuck around."

I sighed. "Why didn't you stay there? Weren't you visiting your parents?"

"I was." Terry paused for a long time. "But I couldn't handle being there for much longer than a few days. They're real stiffs."

I grinned, thinking about how Terry always talked about her parents and their rules. It always ended up that the kids who were rebellious and crazy got very strict parents. "Well, if you would have stuck around for a little longer, you would have gotten to party with the Olympic hockey team with me," I said, hearing a bragging note in my voice.

"What?" Terry asked, sounding shocked. "They were in Colorado Springs? What for?"

"Try outs," I told her. "They were in a bar afterwards, and I was there. That whole thing did not turn out well, I'll tell you that much."

"Tell me everything."

After having a long conversation with Terry about what happened, and describing in minute detail what Mark Johnson looked like, I hung up the phone and laughed to myself. When I had told her that the team was going to be practicing in Minneapolis for the next few months, she nearly lost her mind, and told me that we were going to search bars until we found the ones that they all went to.

A few weeks went by, and Terry never called to go out, so I assumed that she gave up on the dream to meet the hockey team. Finally, one Friday night while I was showering, getting ready to go to bed, my phone rang. I heard it and immediately thought it was Terry so I shut the water off and ran to the phone, catching it on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" I panted into the phone.

"Vic?" the voice on the other line sounded worried and was definitely not Terry. "Hello?"

"Yeah, sorry," I said, catching my breath. "Hello."

The voice hummed for a second. "I don't know if this is a bad time or anything..."

"No, no," I said. "I just got out of the shower. Who is this?"

"Rob, Rob McClanahan. You know, from the bar in Colorado? Do you remember that?"

I was a little surprised, mostly because Rob McClanahan was a hockey player, which made him more or less too good to talk to me in the first place, but to actually phone me was another thing completely. "Of course," I said. "Where did you get my number from?"

"Well, actually, a few of the boys and I were in a bar the other night, and we ran into your friend Terry Miller. We got to talking about you, and she said that she heard all about us from you, so we started saying how it would be a good idea to party with you again sometime soon, so Terry gave me your number. I hope that's alright."

"Oh, yeah. It's fine. So you just got back to Minneapolis? Are you staying long?"

I regretted asking the question right away, when Rob launched into a long-winded explanation of what the team was doing, how long they were going to be in Minneapolis, where the guys were all staying, and where they would be practicing. I stood in my living room with water dripping uncomfortably down my back as I listened to him.

"... So we should be out of here by around February, when the games start," Rob finished.

"Great," I said. "So I should be seeing quite a bit of you all in the time in between then."

"Sure thing," Rob said. "I guess I'd better let you go, though. I just wanted to make sure Terry didn't give me a phony number." He laughed to himself. "Anyway, I'll give you my number so you can give me a call some time in case you wanted to see what we were all doing, alright?"

"Sounds good," I said. I wrote Rob's number down on a piece of paper and hung up the phone, realizing that I had made myself sound extremely eager to find myself in their company again by saying that I would be seeing quite a bit of them. Almost a little bit too eager. I grimaced and walked to my room to get dressed.

Later that night, I sat in my apartment, bored out of my mind. The semester at the University of Minnesota didn't start until September, and until then, I had nothing to do. I flipped through the channels on the television, but there was nothing worth watching. The news about the Cold War always made me feel kind of sick to my stomach so I avoided watching it at all costs.

In the end, I found myself sitting at my kitchen table holding the old envelope that I had written Rob McClanahan's phone number on, tapping my fingernails against the table, and thinking. Would he be annoyed, or even creeped out, if I chose to call him only five hours after getting his number? It wasn't as though we had gone out on a date or anything, so there was no set time on when I should call, if I decided to call at all. In fact, he should be happy that I was choosing to call at all, I thought. I mean, he asked one of my friends for my number, and then tells me to give him a call like we're good friends? I hardly knew this Rob character! He could have been a murderer or some kind of sicko, for all I knew. But then again, I did have a lot of fun with them in Colorado, and none of them chose to do anything fishy there, and that would have been an ideal opportunity to do something given my... condition on that particular night. Deciding once and for all that I was insane and over-thought things, I dialled the number before I could stop myself.

The phone rang for what seemed like the longest time before someone picked up. My parents used to tell me that if you take the time to phone someone, you should never hang up while the phone is still ringing. What if the people were expecting an important phone call, and when you called, they all scrambled to the phone, only for it to stop ringing? It was because of this that I never hung up the phone until completely necessary.

"Hello?" The voice on the other end didn't sound like Rob.

"Hi, is Rob there?" I asked timidly, feeling like I should have possibly hung up the phone.

"Uh, actually, no, he just stepped out. Can I take a message or something for you?"

"No, that's alright. You can probably just tell him Victoria called."

"Victoria? Vic? From the bar in Colorado?"

I grimaced. "Yeah, one in the same."

The guy on the other end laughed. "This is Mark. Mark Johnson. You might remember me from your hotel room?"

I clapped a hand to my forehead. Good Lord! I laughed airily. "Oh, right, that's right. I do remember you, Mark. How are you doing? Are you staying with Rob?"

"No, actually, I'm staying a few places over. I figured I might as well get a place here as long as I'm staying, right? Mac just went out to get some food; he's cooking tonight. Did he give you his number in case you wanted to come by or something?"

"Something like that," I said. "I didn't expect to be calling so soon, though. I just talked to him about three hours ago."

Mark laughed. "I guess you must be pretty eager to go to another bar with us, huh?"

I winced. This was turning into a real killer of a phone call. "Look, I meant to say something about that before. I don't usually do that. I don't even usually drink that much."

"I don't think anyone does," he returned, laughing more.

I started to laugh too, feeling as if his cheery mood was catching. "I guess not. Just—don't judge me on my behaviour on that night, alright? I'm usually a lot more composed than that."

"Don't worry about it," Mark replied. "I didn't think you were as... free-spirited, I guess the word would be, as your friend Terry."

"Oh, you met her?" I snorted. "I'm sure a few of the guys on the team enjoyed her company."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. The reputation hockey players get from being... well, players."

Mark was silent for a moment. "I'm going to be honest with you. Hockey players get a terrible name from the bunch of guys that decide to use their status as athletes to help them in their quest to get girls." He sounded extremely bitter.

I realised that I had offended him. "I..."

He laughed again. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get emotional with you, there. Why don't we make a deal?"

"What kind of deal?" I asked slowly.

"I'll promise not to judge you based on that night in Colorado, and you can promise to not judge me based on what you've heard about hockey players. Because believe me, there's a few good ones left out there."

I chuckled. "That sounds like a pretty good deal to me, Mark Johnson."

"Well, good," Mark said. In the background of his side, I heard a door shutting and someone speaking. "Oh, hey, Mac," I heard Mark say. "Mac's back," he said into the phone. "Did you still want to talk to him? Oh—well, I guess it doesn't matter. Here he is."

The phone rustled for a minute as it changed hands. "Hey, Vic," Rob said. I had to admit, the name was starting to grow on me. "What's up?"

"Well," I said, "I was just sitting around at home, and I was feeling a little bored—"

"D'you want to come over here? I'm making burgers for me, Johnson and a few other guys. My place can't be too far from yours, right? You live near the U, don't you?"

"Yeah," I told him. "Just give me directions, and I'll find my way over there. Do I need to bring anything?"

"Nope, just yourself," Rob said. "Oh—wait. We need ketchup."

"And mustard!" someone in the background shouted.

"Yeah, and mustard." Rob said.

"Okay," I laughed. "How do you get to your place?"

It turned out that Rob lived in Burnsville, which was about a half an hour away from where I lived. Rob gave me the directions, which I wrote down on the old envelope, and then I grabbed my keys, the bottles of ketchup and mustard, and set out.

I pulled up to an apartment complex about fifteen minutes later and spotted someone I recognised on the front yard of the building. I couldn't remember his name, but I vaguely remembered him from Colorado. As I got out of my car, he looked up and grinned.

"Vic! How's it going, baby?"

I put my keys into my purse and started to walk towards him. "Good. How about you?" The guy's name suddenly occurred to me. He was Buzz Schneider.

"Fantastic. They made me wait out here until you got here in case you couldn't find your way into Mac's place. Come on, let's go inside. It looks like it might rain," he commented, throwing a glance to the darkening sky.

Buzz lead the way to Rob's apartment. He held the door open for me and I walked in, and I was immediately engulfed in a hug by—someone. I couldn't remember his name either.

"Verchota, come on. Leave the woman alone, would you?" Phil Verchota released me from the bear hug, and I looked around the room. There were six or seven guys there, and as far as I could tell, I was the only female in the vicinity.

"Oh—hey, you're here, good. I was just going to start handing out burgers," Rob said, sticking his head out of the kitchen.

Phil placed an arm around my shoulders. "Will you sit beside me at supper, Vic?" he asked in a baby-ish voice that made me laugh.

I reached up and ruffled his hair. "Of course I will, Phil." I turned to Rob, who was walking out of the kitchen. "How come the rest of the team isn't here?"

Rob shrugged. "I couldn't cook burgers for twenty-six people. Just a few of them came. Almost all of us are staying at this apartment building."

I was introduced to the rest of the boys there that I didn't know. There was a Bill Baker, a Mike Ramsey, and Ken Morrow, who was a tall guy who looked like he could have been about thirty, with a big scruffy beard. Bah, Pav, Buzz Schneider, Mark Johnson were flipping through the channels of Rob's television.

Rob went back into the kitchen for a moment and then emerged with a large platter full of burgers. "Why are they on a platter, Mac?" Bah asked, sounding confused.

"I don't know," Rob replied, shaking his head. "My mom does this sometimes. It beats going back to the kitchen to get more, right?"

"Well, aren't you the perfect little housewife," Phil said, sitting down on the couch next to Pav. I sat down on Pav's other side. Mac gave Phil a twisted grin and set the platter down on the coffee table beside my ketchup and mustard. "Anyway, these look delicious, Mac," Phil continued, grabbing one.

The burgers, it turned out, were not delicious. Rob had somehow managed to burn the outside of some of the burgers, and some of them were nearly raw. About seven of the burgers were cooked normally.

"They sure looked good," Phil grumbled.

"It was a good effort, Mac, I wouldn't worry," Mark Johnson said, his face contorting as he swallowed a bite of his charred burger. "I don't think I could have done much better."

Bill Baker set his burger down on the platter again. "Would you be offended if I ordered a pizza, Mac?" he asked, reaching for the phone.

"Order two," Bah told him. "Just as long as you wouldn't be offended, Mac. Mac?" Rob had disappeared.

"What?" Rob emerged from the kitchen, holding an apple. "Oh, no, I don't care. Order three, Baker." Everyone laughed as Bill dialled the phone.

When the pizzas arrived, all the boys attacked them like scavengers. By the time I got to take a piece, there was only two left. Phil had taken one of the pizzas in his lap and the other one had been annihilated the moment it was set down. I timidly reached for a piece.

"You know what would be great with these pizzas, boys... and girl?" Bah asked.

"Burgers?" Pav muttered so only I could hear him, and I stifled a laugh.

"Beer," Bah finished. "We're in desperate need of some beer. Mac, do you have any?"

Rob shrugged. "No, sorry. I'm fresh out of beer right now."

Bah looked horribly disappointed. "There goes my dream of beer with my pizza," he whined, sitting back down.

Pav elbowed me in the side. "You brought your car, didn't you, baby? Why don't we just get into her car and go for a beer run?"

"There's boxes in the back seat of my car," I said, trying to avoid having people in my car, as it was currently a mess of epic proportions.

"There's boxes in everyone's car, woman," Phil said. "Come on. Let's go. Pav, Johnson, Bah, go with her. And we'll wait here."

"Why us?"

"Because, Bah, you were the one that wanted beer, Pav, you wanted to take Vic's car, and Johnson, you look like you're so bored you could cry right now."

"Point taken," Mark said, rising to his feet. "Come on, boys."

The three boys and I piled into my car, and after a vicious race to get the front seat, Mark Johnson settled in beside me.

I started the car and tried not to listen to Pav and Bah rustling around in the garbage in my back seat, or notice Mark kicking two cans around in the area in front of his seat. "Sorry about the mess," I said sheepishly. "I meant to clean it up when I got back from Colorado, but I never got around to it."

"Don't worry about it," Bah told me. "On the bright side, I think I just found my tenth grade science project back here."

I laughed embarrassedly as the others roared with laughter.

I pulled into the parking lot of a nearby liquor store and the boys got out to buy the beer. While they were gone, I quickly got out of the car and scrambled around in the backseat, grabbing garbage and running to the trash can outside of the store to throw it away. I tidied up the front seat just as the boys were paying for two cases of beer. They came back out of the store as I was throwing the rest of the junk away.

"See, if you would have done that to begin with when you got back from Colorado, you wouldn't have had to worry about people coming into your messy car," Bah teased. "Could you open your trunk?"

They put the beer in the trunk of my car and we set off back to the apartment. It turned out that Buzz had been right; it was going to rain. As we pulled up to the building, it was pouring.

"Are you the kind of girl who gets upset when her hair gets wet?" Bah asked. "Because I don't know if I'd be okay with that. We might have to break up."

"No," I told him, laughing. "But seeing as you are clearly not a gentleman, I think we need to break up anyway, Bah."

"Ah, touché," he said. "If you're looking for a gentleman, you might be looking in the wrong place. What would you consider to be 'gentlemanly'?"

I shrugged, not expecting to be put on the spot. "Well, I don't know. Maybe a gentleman would hold his jacket over my head so I don't get wet, and help me over puddles so I didn't get my shoes wet?" I honestly didn't know anyone who did that, and things like that always made me think of men that wore tuxedos and top hats, but it didn't matter.

"Pav, have you ever done that?"

Pav shook his head.

"Johnson?"

"Well, if that's what women want..." Mark got out of the car, taking his jacket off as he went, and he walked around the car to my door. He pulled the door open and threw his jacket over my head, and then scooped me up into his arms, laughing as I protested loudly. "I guess I can comply with that."

"A happy medium," Bah said as he got out of the car. "Very clever, Johnson."

I was carried into the building like that, with Mark's jacket on my head. It was a very literal interpretation of what I had said. Technically, his jacket was over my head, and he was helping me over puddles. Technically, Mark Johnson was a perfect gentleman.

Mark set me down in the hallway outside of Mac's apartment and pulled his jacket off of my head. "My hero," I grumbled. "Next time I'll just walk through the rain." Bah and Pav were walking up the stairs after us, Pav carrying the beer.

Mark laughed. "If you say so." He reached out and smoothed my hair, which had been rumpled badly by his jacket. "It was what you wanted, though."

"Yeah," I said. "Sometimes people look back on their lives and realize that what they thought they wanted was the complete opposite of what they needed, though." Following my words there was a kind of weird moment where Mark and I just stood there outside the door, looking at each other.

"Alright," Bah said, pushing past Mark and reaching for the door. "If you could stop flirting for one moment, please, you two, I need to get inside."

I felt myself turning red and I quickly followed Bah inside.

"Finally!" Phil shouted from the couch. "I was starting to think you guys got in an accident with the beer!"

"What're you talking about, Verchota? This beer is for us," Bah said as Pav set the beer down on the table. "We went to get it, it belongs to us."

"Come on!" Phil argued. "There's no way you four will be able to polish off two twelve-packs. You'd have to drink six beers each!"

Bah nodded, impressed. "That is some good math you just did there, Verchota. For that, you get one of these beers."

"He can have mine," I said, and they turned to look at me as if they'd forgotten I was there. "I'm not a fan of beer, remember?"

Bah's face brightened. "Yeah, I guess that's right. The girl doesn't drink beer, boys. That means you can split her share." The rest of the boys cheered, and Phil clapped me heavily on the back.

"I won't drink either," Mark said from the doorway. "We have practice tomorrow. I don't want to be out of it for that."

"Johnson, you are the biggest spoilsport I've ever met." Bah started divvying up the beer. "Fine, I guess we'll just split the whole twenty-four around the rest of us." He quickly counted the people. "Where did Morrow go?" he asked, noticing that the bearded guy was gone.

"He went back to his own place," Rob replied. "He said he needed to get some sleep."

"Oh," Bah said. "Well, that means there's only six people with enough balls to drink tonight. Four each for everyone; and no sneaking more than your share, got it, boys?"

The boys gathered around the beer boxes and grabbed their beer before someone else could take them. I went back to the couch, sitting between Pav and Mark.

After a while, things started to get a little boring, so Bill Baker suggested that we play drinking games. Drinking games when a person isn't drinking are a little bit dull, but Mark and I both got Pepsi and we joined in anyway. The first game the boys tried to play was "Higher, Lower, Black, or Red", where a person tries to guess what the next card drawn from a deck will be, but that wasn't exciting enough for the boys and they changed the game to "Never Have I Ever", where one person says something they've never done and anyone who has done that thing needs to take a drink. Needless to say, it was a little bit more interesting.

"Never have I ever... called my own mother a bitch," Mike Ramsey said, screwing up his face to think of something to say. No one drank. "I would hope so," he said, slurring his words a little.

"Rammer, are you drunk?" Rob asked.

Mike shook his head. "No, no. I'm fine. I just haven't drank for a while and it's hitting me harder than it should. I needed to keep this body lean and mean, you know?"

Everyone laughed. "Sure thing, Rammer," Bah said. "Okay, Pav, your turn."

Pav paused for a moment. "Okay. Never have I ever..." he shot an evil look at me before continuing with, "gotten drunk in a bar in Colorado and ended up in a hotel room with Mark Johnson."

"Cheapshot," I muttered, taking a drink of my Pepsi. "I don't know why you're so eager to make me drink, there's no alcohol in this. Besides, you were drunk out of your tree that night too, Pav."

He shrugged. "But I didn't end up in a hotel room with Mark Johnson. What went on there, anyway?"

I felt my face grow warm, even though I knew nothing had happened with Mark in that hotel room... or did I? I was very out of it that night, for all I knew, something could have happened and I would never know about it. I turned slowly to Mark, whose face was also turning red.

The boys hooted. "What happened, Johnson? Come on, buddy, you can tell us," Mac said, leaning in over the coffee table.

Mark glanced uneasily at me before saying slowly, "Suffice it to say that what happens in Colorado stays in Colorado."

I felt relieved and mortified at the same time. What he said implied that something had happened. Mark gave me an apologetic grin. Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bill lean over and whisper something into Rob's ear, who leaned over and whispered to Phil, who whispered to Bah, who whispered to Buzz, and finally, Pav got the message. It stopped at him. All six of them were grinning at each other.

"Come on, now, let's keep the game going, here," Phil said hurriedly, looking pointedly at Mark, who still looked hugely embarrassed.

"Oh—right. Let's see. Never have I ever... broken up with a girl because she was bad in bed."

Phil and Buzz both drank, laughing. "You don't understand," Buzz said. "This girl was _terrible_. She always tried to talk dirty and everything, but it was like she was trying to carry on a normal conversation with me. She also would _never_ take her shirt off. Does that even make sense?" He looked around at the guys, who all looked hilariously scandalized. I laughed, and Buzz turned to me. "Do you take your shirt off when you're doing a guy?" he asked bluntly, and I started to turn red again.

"Well—ah... Yeah, doesn't that make sense? The point is to be naked, right?" I stammered.

Bah nodded wisely. "That's very true. Alright, Baker, your turn." He grinned at Bill, who smirked before speaking.

"Never have I ever kissed Vic. In a hotel room in Colorado."

There was a moment of silence, and then Mark took a drink of his Pepsi, his face beet red. The boys roared with laughter. I was, again, completely mortified.

"Well played, Baker," Rob said, slapping him on the back. "My turn." He thought for a moment, and then smiled. "Never have I ever had sex with Vic in a hotel room in Colorado."

This time, Mark didn't drink, but he turned redder, if that was possible. "Can you stop it?" he asked, sounding fairly annoyed.

"Hey—no, this is fun, come on, Johnson. Be a sport about it. So you didn't drink for that one?" Phil asked, and Mark shook his head. "Alright, then it's my turn. Never have I ever turned down Vic for sex while she was drunk, in a hotel room in Colorado."

This time, about fifteen seconds passed, before Mark slowly tipped his glass and drank. There was an uproar, and it took the boys a few seconds to calm down, but I didn't notice because I was sitting with my head in my hand, hiding my burning face. Pav clapped me on the back. "Come on, now," he said. "It happens to the best of us, right? It's just your luck that it had to be exposed like this in front of all of us."

After the laughter died down, Bah took his turn. "Never have I ever wanted to have sex with Vic in a hotel room in Colorado."

Mark didn't drink, but he stood up. "I'm done playing, thanks," he said, and went into the kitchen. As he walked away, Phil, Bah and Buzz drank.

"Jesus, you dogs," Rob said, punching Phil lightly in the shoulder. "Come on, she's right there!"

"Hey, forgive me, Vic," Phil said, grinning at me. "But you were looking pretty good that night. I'm just being honest."

I just shook my head, moving to the other end of the couch where Mark had been sitting.

"Alright, alright. We won't play that game anymore, if it makes you two happy." Mac turned his head to the kitchen. "Johnson, come on, you big baby! Get yourself back out here and enjoy the company."

Mark skulked out of the kitchen and took the spot between Pav and I.

"I think I'm done drinking these," Rob said, holding his two unopened beers out. "Who wants 'em?"

All the boys scrambled to Rob to try and grab one of the beers, which turned into a semi-wild shoving war. While their attention was on each other and the beer, Mark leaned forward and grabbed his glass from the table. He glanced over at me to make sure I was watching him, and then he took a long drink before turning to look at me for the briefest of seconds. Realizing what this meant, I leapt to my feet, seizing my purse from the floor beside the couch.

"I'm going to head home," I said, loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the boys pushing each other.

"Aww, come on, Vic, it's only nine!" Bah said, having claimed one of the beers. "Sit down, have another Pepsi!"

"No, that's alright," I said, refusing to meet Mark's eyes. "I'm beat. Thanks for having me over, Rob."

"Any time," Rob said, looking a little confused. "By the way, just call me Mac, okay? All my friends call me Mac. Give me a call if you want to hang out here again; the door's always open."

I scrambled to the door. "Sure thing, Mac. I'll see you boys around," I nearly shouted over my shoulder as I got out of there as fast as I could.

Once out in the safety of the hallway, I leaned against the wall, my mind racing. By drinking, Mark made it clear that he had wanted to sleep with me in Colorado, but he didn't. Probably because I was a drunken mess and it would have been taking advantage of me. I slowly made my way out of the building and got into my car. As I drove away, I glanced up at the building again. Mark was looking out the window, a disappointed look on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi again... I don't think any of my next few chapters will be as long as the last one... I just copy-paste them from the original story on my computer. Again, let me know if there's anything hugely wrong with these. I noticed in the last chapter that there was some serious problems chronologically. Buuuut, if you didn't notice it, well, neither did I. :) Please review and let me know how to fix it or if I'm doing a decent job!**

A week later, I was still dwelling on the evening at Mac's house, and I hadn't called there again for fear of Mark picking up the phone. Terry called me once to ask if Mac had phoned me, and when I told her that he did and that I had gone over there for a few hours, she was jealous and told me that if he ever called me again, I was to get a hold of her and bring her along, which I promised I would do.

Saturday night, I was considering just throwing on my pyjamas and heading to bed, even though it was ridiculously early, when the phone rang. I grabbed it and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, Vic?" The voice was unsure; nervous. It was Mark Johnson. "This is Mark. Mark Johnson. How are you?"

"Not too bad," I said frigidly, my hand clamped tightly around the phone. "How did you get my number?"

"I asked Mac for it," he said slowly. "I thought I might want to give you a call sometime to see what you were up to; maybe ask you if you wanted to go get some ice cream or something."

"Are hockey players allowed to eat ice cream?" The question burst from my mouth before I could stop it.

Mark didn't say anything for a long moment before starting to laugh. His laugh was oddly catching and I started to laugh too. "Well, yeah," he said after a minute. "We can eat whatever we want. I mean, we should be on a strict diet, but I usually go for a jog after I eat something like ice cream."

"Really? After eating just one or two scoops of ice cream?" I was so interested in the idea that I forgot to be nervous.

"Sure," he said. "Not a ten mile jog, you know, just a short one. I need to keep myself fit."

I rested my chin on my palm. "Say you walked to where you went to get ice cream," I said. "And you walked while eating the ice cream, and on the way back from where ever it was that you went. Would you be able to skip the jog?"

"I guess so, if I was already exercising," Mark said thoughtfully. "That's a good point; remind me to not drive when I go to get ice cream."

"Okay," I said.

"Now that we've dealt with that," Mark said, laughing, "you didn't say whether or not you wanted to come for ice cream with me."

I glanced at the clock nervously. It was only shortly after seven; I couldn't say that I was already asleep or ready for bed. "Um, sure. I just need a minute or two. Should I come and get you?"

"Here's an idea," Mark said thoughtfully. "Why don't I just drive over there, and we can walk to get the ice cream, so I can skip my jog?"

I laughed. "That sounds good."

I gave him directions to where I lived, and in a few minutes, I saw a car that I didn't recognise pulling up beside the building. I watched from behind my curtains as Mark got out of his car and walked slowly up the sidewalk, glancing around. A few moments later, there was a knock at my door, and I waited a few seconds before going to answer it. I didn't want to make it seem like I was too eager. I pulled the door open slowly. "Oh, hi. It's you."

Mark looked puzzled. "Were you expecting someone else?"

I shook my head. "No, I guess not. I just thought it would take you longer to get here."

He smiled lightly. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm a bit of a speed demon."

"Come on in," I said, laughing. "I'll just be a minute. I need to get my purse."

"No, no," Mark said, grabbing my arm. "You won't need it." He put his hands in the pockets of his windbreaker pants and shook them. I heard the sound of money jingling around in them. Apparently he had a lot of quarters with him. "I'm buying tonight. Come along, miss."

I followed him out of the apartment, shutting the door and locking it behind me. We walked for a few moments in silence.

"So, do you have any idea where we're going?" Mark asked after a while.

I shrugged. "I don't go for ice cream a lot, but when I do, I usually go to this stand that's in the park up here." I gestured a little farther ahead. "We're getting close."

We eventually got to the stand and Mark ordered a small vanilla ice cream cone, and then asked me what I wanted. My mind started to race and I panicked and ordered the same as him, feeling like an absolute idiot. After Mark paid for the ice cream, we settled down on a bench to eat it.

For the longest time no one said anything. The fact that neither of us were talking made me nervous, and it made me think of the night at Mac's house. Just as long as Mark was speaking to me, I was fine; the silence was apparently my enemy.

"So," Mark said, chewing on the cone of his ice cream. "what do you want to be when you grow up?"

The question was out of the blue and it made me laugh. "I want to be a writer," I told him. "Ever since I was a little kid I always wanted to write stories for other people to read, so I'm in Journalism right now, for the time being. What about you?"

Mark shrugged, leaning back and stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm not completely sure. I mean, I want the whole hockey thing to work out, but if it doesn't, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with myself."

"Hmm," I said. "What do your parents do?"

"Well, my dad coaches at the University of Wisconsin, where I go. I've always thought that coaching would be a really good way to stay involved in hockey even if I couldn't be playing it, you know? And my dad's been doing it for years, and he loves coaching so much that I sometimes think I would really enjoy it too. But who knows? I might go into sports medicine once I'm done with hockey. It's really up in the air at this point."

I nodded. "Both of my parents really wanted me to be a teacher, like they are."

"They're both teachers?"

"Yeah. You can probably see how I have big shoes to fill. They wanted me to do that, and they've been telling me for years that I couldn't make a decent living as an author, but they don't understand that money isn't the biggest issue when you're looking for a job. They both do things that they like to do and they're both really good at it." I sighed. "I just can't see myself being a teacher."

"You should do what you want to do, not what your parents want you to do," Mark said lightly. "I mean, it's your life, and if you end up doing something that you hate, well, then, what's the point? They spent all that money sending you to university so you could end up as what they wanted, but what could they possibly get out of you being unhappy?"

I nodded. "I know that. I told them that, and they kind of understand now. I just need to be successful. I don't think they would like it if I just ended up being a wife."

Mark turned and looked at me, looking surprised. "They wouldn't like that? Why not?"

I shrugged. "I was raised to end up living a life where my career comes first, then my family. I've never really believed that, though," I added quickly, catching an odd look on his face, "but they just seem to think that I would do better in life if I waited until I was on solid ground before I got any kind of family started.

He looked thoughtful. "That kind of makes sense. What would you do if you were the kind of person who would just want to settle down and raise a family?"

"I _am_ that kind of person," I said, laughing. "I haven't figured out what I'm going to do, though. I figure that if I can find my future husband while I'm here, it's like I'm multi-tasking, right? I'm working on my successful future, but I also have a back-up plan on the back burner."

Mark laughed. "That's very organised. That sounds like something goal-oriented parents would go for."

"Let's hope so," I said, smiling.

We fell silent for a minute again, and again, I started to panic. I finished my ice cream and started to roll the napkin that I had gotten with it up until it fell apart in my hands. Mark was watching me with some interest.

"You seem kind of nervous."

I looked up at him. "Sorry," I said quickly, tossing the remains of the tattered napkin in the garbage beside me.

"Don't be. Am I making you nervous?" Mark asked, grinning at me.

Straightening up, I said, "No, not really. It's just that when no one is talking, I get a little..."

"Nervous?"

I grimaced. "Okay, fine. You make me nervous. Are you happy?"

He shook his head. "Not really. What should I talk about?"

Mark actually seemed to want to make the experience less uncomfortable. "I don't know," I said. "Hockey? How are the practices going?"

"Fine, I guess," Mark said, shrugging. "Herb's a different kind of coach than my dad. We've been working really hard for the last couple of days. This has been the first day off since that day we were hanging out at Mac's house." He glanced at me as I winced at the mention of that day. "What?"

I shrugged. "Nothing. Sorry I interrupted you."

He regarded me for a minute, and then smiled grimly. "You're still rattled from that day at Mac's, aren't you?" When I said nothing, he laughed. "I guess I can see why you would be. Sorry if I came off as creepy; I didn't mean for it to happen like that. I just wanted you to understand that it wasn't easy to turn you... down, you know?"

I raised my eyebrows at him.

"Okay, okay. That sounded creepy too. What do you want me to say?"

"I wish you would tell me exactly what happened. Just so I know that what I'm picturing isn't as bad as what actually happened," I told him.

He laughed again. "You're sure?" he asked, and I nodded. "Alright... Well, what do you remember?"

I thought about it. "I remember you and that other guy bringing me into the hotel room and having an argument about how I was supposed to lay on the bed. And then I passed out again."

"Really?" Mark asked, sounding surprised. "That's all you remember?" I nodded again, grimacing. "Okay. So, after that, you woke up for a minute and threw up into the garbage. Then you got up and kind of walked into the bathroom, so I got up to see what you were doing. You were in the bathroom brushing your teeth." He laughed. "You told me that your parents always made you brush your teeth after you got sick, because it cleaned the bacteria out of your mouth. Then you told me that I had a lot of bacteria in my mouth." Mark started to talk a little slower. "You kind of grabbed me around the shoulders and pulled me into the bathroom, and you pushed me against the tub so I fell in there. You were sort of sitting on me in the tub. You told me, 'Either I have to brush your teeth, or you're going to get warts in your mouth.'"

"Wait!" I said suddenly. "I think I remember that. You were saying how it was wet at the bottom of the tub and I got mad at you..."

"Right, and then you started brushing my teeth. 'Just like your mom used to do,' you told me. Then you helped me out of the tub so I could rinse out my mouth and while my mouth was full of water, you kind of jumped at me."

"Ugh," I said, holding my head in my hand. I was starting to remember this a little bit better now. I had tried to kiss Mark while he was rinsing out his mouth and he had had to swallow the water he had been gargling with. "I'm so sorry."

He laughed. "Please don't worry about it. I'm not mad. I thought it was kind of funny. Anyway, you conked out a while after that and woke up a little later to tell me we should get married. It was a good night."

I groaned. "Fantastic. Remember, you promised me you weren't going to judge me based on that night, right?"

"I'm not judging anyone," he said, holding up his hands. "I was just saying. You don't have to be embarrassed. Everyone does stupid things, and I'm no exception." He glanced around. "When did it get so dark? It's got to be around nine by now! We should get back." Mark stood up and tossed his garbage into the can beside the bench. "Come on."

After I got back home, I decided that it was hard to be nervous around Mark Johnson. Something about the way that he made me feel comfortable by simply speaking to me was very new, and even a little bit strange. A situation like ours would have been really uncomfortable around anyone else, but for some reason, around Mark it didn't; it seemed almost funny. I decided that it was important for me to figure out why that was.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey again. I realized that I didn't have a disclaimer for any of these chapters, which some people might find important. So... **

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own the movie. I suppose the movie belongs to Disney, but -cue violins- the miracle itself... -sniffles- it belongs... to everyone. Ahem. Yeah. It's hard to have a disclaimer for something that actually happened, especially when I'm trying to keep to the way things actually happened. Meh. Anything you recognize from the movie belongs to Disney, the rest of it is mine. Vic and Terry and a few other people I'm probably going to throw in are mine. A lot of it is the product of some heavy creeping on modern day Mark Johnson, who I unfortunately developed a bit of a creepy crush on, despite his age. But. You didn't need to know that, and this has stretched out into a ramble, rather than a disclaimer. Just apply this to the rest of the chapters. **

That Saturday, my mom called me to tell me that she was expecting me for dinner that night, seeing as they hadn't heard from me in a long time. That was fair; I hadn't called or been by the house since I had gotten back from Colorado. There was nothing going on that day, so I decided to go there early to visit my parents and younger brother, Wade, for a while.

My family lived on the outskirts of Minneapolis in a moderately sized house surrounded by other moderately sized houses. The house was too big for us, and I guessed that my parents just wanted to show off the fact that they had enough money to have a house that size.

I pulled into the driveway and I immediately heard the sound of banging against the inside of the garage door. I grinned, jogging up the front steps and opening the door.

"I'm home," I called into the house. No one answered. My parents were probably out; they didn't know that I was coming home early. I quickly made my way into the garage.

Wade was in there, shooting a tennis ball into the makeshift net that he and his friends had fashioned out of old pieces of wood and netting. He turned when he heard the door open, and a grin spread across his face. "Hey, stranger," he said, dropping his stick and moving to give me a hug.

"Hey," I said, hugging him and then sitting down on a milk crate on the floor. "How are you?"

He shrugged, picking his stick up and bouncing the ball on the blade of it. He wasn't able to keep it bouncing and it rolled away across the garage. "Same old, same old," he replied distractedly, chasing the ball, catching it, and putting it on the ground. "What about you? I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you too good for your little brother now?"

I gave him a light shove as he passed by, stick handling the ball. He took a light shot that missed the net slightly, and banged loudly on the door of the garage. "Why not do this outside, Wade?" I asked, pointing at the net.

Wade grinned. "You try moving this net. Tell me how that goes." He walked up to the net and gave it a hard tap with his stick. It creaked and groaned noisily. "I tried to get it out of here once, and I was almost net-less. Mom and Dad don't really care."

I laughed. "Remind me to invest in an actual net for you this Christmas."

"I would really appreciate that, Victoria."

"So, how'd summer school go?" I asked him uneasily.

He shrugged. "Let's just say that my sophomore slump carried over to the summer. Now..." He wound up, getting ready to take a slap shot, "we call it a summer slump." Wade brought his stick down towards the ball, and it went through the net, whacking against the door loudly.

I frowned. Wade was the kind of kid who had a lot of potential to do really well in school, but he chose to focus on other things. For him, it was hockey. He didn't quite realize that he would have to get better grades if he wanted to get into the U. "Well, keep studying," I said uselessly. "What do Mom and Dad think?"

"I think they think that they used up all their genius genes on their first kid."

Before I could say anything, the garage door opened, revealing my dad standing there. He looked surprised to see me there. "I thought you weren't coming here until later tonight, Victoria."

I shrugged. "I figured I'd come by early to visit you all for a while."

Dad looked happy about that. "That's good. We haven't seen you for a long time." He turned to Wade. "I thought I said that if you were going to shoot in here, you had to hit the net, Wade. I don't want to see any dents on that door afterwards."

"You won't," Wade replied. "You should know that I never miss, Dad."

Dad gave him a small smile. "The amount of goals that you got last year begs to differ, Wade."

Wade clapped a hand to his heart, a pained look coming over his face.

Evidently, my parents had been grocery shopping because soon after, Mom came into the garage, saying how it was a shame that she had two males living in the house and neither of them was willing to help her. She then spotted me.

"Victoria! Well, that's a nice surprise! Come and help me cook; we'll catch up." She made it sound like we were old friends or something.

Mom and I cooked up spaghetti and meatballs for dinner, while Wade sneaked in and out of the kitchen, stealing food every time he did. I told Mom all about my trip to Colorado and how I never saw Terry, but I failed to mention the night I spent with Mark in the hotel. I thought it was probably best to leave it out.

Later, at dinner, Wade mentioned that the United States hockey team was staying in the city.

"It's because their coach, Herb Brooks, coaches at the U so it's easy for him to get to practices and stuff like that. They're practicing here and they'll probably play some games in Minneapolis too," he explained to me, even though I already knew this. I thought it would seem kind of odd to throw into the conversation now that I had met some of them, so I kept my mouth shut about that too.

"We'll have to get tickets to some of the games in the city," Dad told Wade. "I think I'd like to see some of them play. Are there any players from the university here playing on the team?"

Wade nodded. "Yeah, quite a few, actually. Everyone's saying that it's because Brooks is the coach of the team here, but a lot of them are really good players. I guess they don't really have that good of a chance of winning anything at the Olympics, though."

"Why's that?" I asked curiously.

Wade shrugged. "A lot of the countries have really good teams," he said. "I mean, the Soviets have been winning the gold there for the last... million or so years, so I doubt any team of college kids could stand a chance against them, right? Countries like Czechoslovakia and Canada are supposed to have pretty strong teams, too." He heaved an impressive sigh. "I guess we'll see in February, though, right?"

I raised my eyebrows at him. "By the sounds of things, you've got a spot on that team, Wade."

He laughed. "Maybe one day. Hey — maybe you'll run into some of the players from the team around the U, Victoria. Have you ever seen any of them? In bars or anything?"

I was getting ready to say something non-committal when Mom cut in. "I think you've been going out too much lately, Victoria. I called you this Thursday to see if you wanted to come by, and no one answered, so I called back an hour later, but no one answered then either. What were you doing?"

I frowned. Thursday was the day that I had gone for ice cream with Mark. For some reason, I didn't want to say anything. My parents always made a huge deal out of any dates that Wade or I went on. They seemed to think that anyone we dated was most likely to be our future husband or wife. "What time was that?" I asked, stalling.

"Around seven-ish. And then an hour later."

"Well," I began, trying to think of something to say. They all looked at me expectantly, and I decided to come clean. "I was out for ice cream."

Mom blinked. "For over an hour? Where did you go?"

"Just to that place by my apartment building," I replied.

"That doesn't explain why you were gone for so long," Dad pressed. "What were you up to?

I felt like I was on trial or something. My face started to turn red. "I was with someone," I said simply.

"Oh, _really_," Wade said, leaning over the table towards me. "What was his name?"

"Traitor," I growled across the table at him. "His name was Mark."

"Mark who?" all three of them asked at the same time.

I gave the table an incredulous look before answering, "Mark Johnson."

Wade leaned back in his seat. "Mark Johnson? You don't mean that big superstar from Wisconsin, do you?"

My parents were looking from Wade to me, a ridiculous kind of excitement coming off of them.

Shrugging, I said, "I didn't know if he was a superstar, but yeah, he's from Wisconsin."

Wade let out a loud laugh and slapped the table. "That's incredible! He's here playing for the Olympic team, did you know that?" I nodded, and he laughed again. "Why didn't you say that you'd met them before? Where did you meet him?"

"I met a bunch of them in Colorado," I explained. "So we met up again once we got back here."

"Well, Victoria, I think it would be nice if you brought Mark by, so we could meet him. Don't you think that would be nice, David?" Mom was looking thoughtfully at me.

"Of course it would be," Dad said, nodding. "Of course, it would have to be on a day that wouldn't interfere with his practices and everything. You have to give us a call beforehand, too, so we know..."

"Whoa, Mom, Dad, you need to slow down," I said, holding my hands up. "I'm not 'going out' with Mark Johnson. We just went for ice cream. I don't know if he'll even call me back, what with all his hockey and everything."

Mom patted my arm comfortingly. "I'm sure he'll call you again, Victoria, and when he does, let him know that we would love to meet him."

Wade guffawed. "Make sure you tell him we're not just trying to get his autograph or anything." He shook his head at me. "My own sister, going for ice cream with Olympic athletes. Who would have thought?"

I glowered at him.

Later that night, when I got home, I heard someone laughing loudly in the hallway. Curious, I turned the corner and saw Terry standing there, supported by Rob McClanahan. Terry spun around, dragging Mac with her, at the sound of my approaching. "Vicky!" she crowed, walking towards me and throwing her arms around my neck. Mac backed away slightly. I gave him a questioning look over her shoulder and he replied with a sombre looking shrug.

"Terry, come on, let's get inside, alright?" I grabbed her arm and pushed gently towards Mac. Terry almost fell, but hit Mac's chest lightly and started laughing again.

"You're kind of soft, you know that?" she said softly to Mac, patting his chest and grinning at him. Mac looked apologetically at me.

I pulled the door open and before I could get inside, Terry stumbled past me and flopped down on my couch, laughing. "Come here for a second," I said to Mac, motioning him to follow me into the kitchen.

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it up with water. "I need to make something very clear to you, Mac," I told him bluntly, setting the water down on the counter. "I like you. You're a really good guy, and I think we could probably end up being friends."

"Okay," Mac said slowly. He seemed to sense that something else was coming.

"But you can't be doing this. You can't just show up with Terry at my house, with Terry in a less than sober state, Mac, you just can't."

He nodded at me, his eyes wide. "I know that! I told her that I'd just take her home, and that you might not even be home, but she kept saying that you'd take care of her because you always do."

I smiled grimly. "Well, you're right about that. I'm more or less the only one that would ever take care of her. Where were you?"

"A bar." Mac shrugged. "I was there with a few of the boys and Terry showed up, so we were drinking with her." He shook his head in disbelief. "She's a _machine_."

Laughing, I grabbed the glass again. "Yeah, tell me something I don't know."

Mac followed me back out of the kitchen to where Terry was now lying on her back on the couch.

"Hey, Terr? I brought you some water if you get thirsty, honey, okay?" I said quietly to her, even though her eyes were closed and she appeared to have passed out. She didn't answer, so I simply sat the glass down on the table beside her. As I straightened up, I glanced at the clock. It was only a little bit after eleven. "Jesus," I said to Mac, who was standing slightly behind me, looking at Terry. "It's still really early—at least for her... That's kind of impressive."

He nodded, grinning. "She's a machine. I said before. Look, I would have brought her back to my place and let her sleep it off there, but I have practice tomorrow, and you're the only person that I could think of... I'm sorry about this."

I shrugged. "It's okay. You get used to it, being her friend. You're just lucky I wasn't gone for the night. If you wanted to head out and get some sleep, you could. I've got it from here."

Mac gave me one last apologetic smile and moved towards the door, Terry mumbled sleepily, "G'night, Mr. Macaroni."

He turned back and gave her an oddly tender look before answering, "Night, Terry."

As he left, I thought to myself that it would be utterly ridiculous if Mac and Terry got together. It would be all wrong. The guys that Terry usually liked were the kinds of guys who would call me at two thirty at night to tell me that Terry was in the hospital with alcohol poisoning, and then hang up before I could say anything, not the kind of guys who would bring her somewhere where she could sleep for the night. As much as I liked Terry, I couldn't help thinking that Mac was too good for her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Here's another update... I hope everyone had a really good Mother's Day... And by everyone I mean my one and only reviewer, who is, as far as I know, the only person who has ever seen this story, haha. :) Anyway, thanks for reviewing, LTJM, you're a trooper! :) This was a glaring hint for anyone who reads this to REVIEW if you read it! I'd love to know what you thought!**

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of Terry throwing up in the bathroom. I got up and groggily made my way across the hall. "Good sleep, Terr?" I croaked, rubbing my eyes.

Terry pulled her head out of the toilet and gave me a smile, which was surprising. I wouldn't have been smiling. "Not really," she said, coughing and spitting into the toilet.

"Charming," I told her, reaching out to help her to her feet. "Come on, I'll make you something to eat, okay?"

Terry followed me out of the bathroom, yawning. "That sounds like a pretty good idea. Something to drink, too, maybe. I'm dying of thirst."

"You would be," I said, grabbing her a glass from the cupboard. "What do you want to eat?"

"I don't know," she said, sitting down at the table. "Breakfast stuff."

I opened the fridge. "Well, I have eggs. And there's a good chance that I have bread somewhere in here. I guess you're in luck."

"Great," she said, stretching. "Did Mac bring me back here last night?"

I nodded, setting eggs on the counter and turning on the stove. "He had to take off right away, though. I think he had practice or something this morning. Either that or he wanted to get rid of the responsibility of taking care of your drunken ass."

Terry made a tsking sound and put her feet up on the chair beside her. "He's pretty good looking, isn't he? Mac?"

I shrugged and cracked some eggs into a frying pan. "I guess so. What, are you thinking of firing up the old charm?"

She laughed, but then looked at me thoughtfully. "It would make sense, though, wouldn't it? We both go to school here in Minneapolis, and we both like hockey..."

"Terry, come on," I cut her off, laughing. "When's the last time you went to a hockey game?"

Terry screwed up her face, thinking. "I went to one of your brother's games, last year," she answered.

"Exactly," I said. "that wasn't even a university game. You don't like hockey."

Terry gave me a stubborn look. "That doesn't mean that I couldn't become a fan. Besides, hockey players never stick with people for long. It's like a rule for them or something. It wouldn't be a long term thing."

"And I'm sure you find a lot of comfort in that," I said sarcastically.

"Some people like to be in long term relationships, and some people like to... play the field for a while, while they wait for the right person to come along," Terry told me wisely. "It's not as if you can talk, Vic."

"What, is that what everyone's calling me now?" I asked exasperatedly. "And what do you mean?"

"I'm talking," Terry paused dramatically, "about Mark Johnson. He was with Mac last night, and he was asking where you were. It seems to me like he's interested in you." She frowned. "Why didn't you tell me that you two went for ice cream?"

I shrugged. "It was that insignificant. We just walked up the street to get ice cream. If anything noteworthy happens, I'll be sure to tell you, Terry."

Terry didn't look impressed. "You're not taking it seriously, and that's why it's not important to you. You need to think that things are significant, so they will be."

"You're not making a lot of sense," I said, handing her a plate with eggs and toast on it and sitting down at the table with my own. "I highly doubt that any college hockey star would ever consider being interested in me. The only reason I ever watch hockey is because Wade plays, and I haven't gone skating in over ten years... What would a hockey player and I have in common?"

Terry raised her eyebrows at me. "His whole life doesn't revolve around hockey, you know. I'm sure he thinks about other things."

"I know," I told her. "I just don't think that I'm one of those things."

She scowled at me. "You're so negative. My prediction is that he'll call you within twenty four hours."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't sell that too hard."

Terry left soon after that to go back to her place to change and I moped around my apartment, looking for something to do. I felt ashamed of myself when I jumped to my feet and scrambled to the phone like a crazy person when it rang suddenly. I had psyched myself out to think that the next phone call I got was going to be Mark without even thinking about it. It wasn't Mark. It was Wade.

"Hello?" I puffed into the phone.

There was silence for a second. "Victoria?" Wade asked hesitantly. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, hitting myself in the forehead with my fist. "Sorry. How are you?"

"Alright," he answered. "I was just calling to ask if you could do me a huge favour."

I hummed. "Okay. Shoot."

"This weekend, I have a hockey camp. Mom and Dad are both at teaching conference things in St. Paul, so I don't have a ride. I was just wondering if you were feeling nice enough to give me a ride to the Bloomington Arena on Saturday afternoon."

"Bloomington?" Something was going on there already, but I couldn't think of what it was.

"Yeah. We've been there before. I'd just need you to come and get me that day, take me to the rink, and drive me back home. You wouldn't have to stay there while it was going on, but I'd need a ride back home afterwards."

I was still trying to think of what was going on at the Bloomington Arena. "Sure, no problem," I told him. "Just let me know when you need to be picked up and everything, and I'll come get you."

After writing down the times for Wade's ice sessions, I hung up the phone and leaned against the wall, my face screwed up in thought. It was going to irritate me that I couldn't figure out the mystery of the Bloomington Arena. In the end, I consoled myself with the thought that I would figure out whatever what was going on there when I actually _went_ there on Saturday.

Terry ended up being wrong in her prediction about Mark calling me within twenty four hours. Mark did, however, call me on Thursday morning of that week.

I had just gotten off the phone with Wade, who had been calling to confirm the time that I would be picking him up on Saturday, seeing as I wouldn't be able to speak to him on Friday for some reason that he wouldn't tell me. The phone rang almost immediately after I set it down, and I picked it up, thinking that it was Wade again.

"What now?"

"Oh, is that how you kids are greeting people on the phone now?"

My breath caught in my throat, realizing who it was. "I thought you were my brother," I explained in a choked sounding voice. "Sorry."

Mark laughed. "It's fine. I didn't know you had a brother."

"Yeah," I said. "Wade. He's sixteen. I just got off the phone with him about his hockey camp this weekend that I'm taking him to, and I thought you were him..." I let my sentence trail off.

"I see. Well, I'm guessing you're busy this weekend if you're off carting your brother to hockey camps. You wouldn't have time to go for something to eat with me?"

I chewed my bottom lip. "No, my personal driver services are just being used on Saturday," I told him, and I heard him laugh lightly. "I'm free on Sunday."

"Good. I have practice on Sunday, so our dinner would have to be a late one, if you didn't mind that..."

"How late?"

"Depends on how the practice goes, I guess. Herb isn't really the kind of coach who has set times for things. If we're struggling, he'll keep us there for longer than we expected, and if we do well, then _maybe_ we get let out early. But there's no promises on that."

I shrugged to myself. "What about tomorrow? I don't think I'm doing anything tomorrow night."

Mark made a non-committal sound. "We have team meetings after practice Friday. We're supposed to stick around at the rink afterwards to talk about next weekend."

"Oh," I said. "What's next weekend? Big game?"

"Kind of. We're going to Europe for a ten day trip, to play the national teams around there."

I was impressed. "Really?"

Mark laughed. "Yeah. The team is doing a kind of tour. We're going all around North America and to Europe before the opening ceremonies."

"Huh. Kind of like a band, right?"

"Exactly like a band," Mark said, chuckling. "But anyway. I think it'd be nice to go out again before I leave. I wouldn't be able to do anything during the week because I have on-ice and dry-land practices every day, which is terrible..."

I listened to Mark ramble on about what he thought of the practices and how hard it was to have any down time with the schedule he had, thinking about what he had said, and remembering the things Terry had said to me. Maybe it was possible that Mark actually was interested in me.

"... yeah, but I guess that's just Herb's method of coaching, you know?" Mark was saying, seemingly unaware of the fact that I was being a terrible listener.

"I guess so," I said blankly. "You'll get used to him." I felt like I needed to throw that in to make it seem like I had been paying attention to what he was telling me. I felt a little guilty for not listening, but I didn't want to ask him to repeat himself.

"I sure hope I do," Mark told me, sounding tired. "But, anyway. I'm getting off topic here. Would you want to go for a late dinner with me on Sunday night after my practice? You'd have to be willing to be flexible on the time thing."

I bit the top of my thumb. "It's not going to be extremely late, is it?"

"Oh, no no. It shouldn't be much later than ten or ten thirty. If that's too late, I absolutely understand. We'll just have to try another time."

"No, that's not too late at all," I heard myself saying. "Why don't I make something here for then and you can just drop by after practice?" I couldn't believe what I was telling him. I _could_ cook, but not overly well. I usually just made myself some pasta and a salad, or some kind of meat and called it a night.

"That would be great," Mark said, a surprised note in his voice. "Are you sure that wouldn't be too much trouble or anything? Because I could take you out; it wouldn't be any trouble."

I shook my head at nothing at all. "No, it's no trouble. I make myself dinner every night anyway. It wouldn't be that much more work to make food for one more person, right?" I paused, thinking. "You'll be really hungry after practice, though, won't you?"

He laughed. "Yeah, I probably will be. There's no getting around that. I could pay you back for any groceries you buy on my account afterwards if you wanted..."

"No," I said. "That's ridiculous. I'm making you a post-practice dinner on Sunday, no questions asked. The cost is completely mine. You bought me ice cream the last time we were together, remember?"

"Well, yeah," Mark said, "but that was less than a dollar. If you'd just let me..."

I cut him off. "Don't be difficult. I won't even tell you what I spent on groceries. And if you try to pay me back, you'll be offending me. Do you want that?"

"No," said Mark, laughing again. I heard, in the background on his end, the sound of someone speaking loudly. "Oh, I have to go," he said to me. "I'll give you a call on Sunday from the rink to tell you when practice is done, alright?"

"Sounds good," I said. "I guess I'll talk to you then."

"Guess so. See you, Vic."

I hung up and immediately called Terry. She answered after letting the phone ring about seven times.

"Hello?"

"Terry, hey. Guess what?"

Terry hummed into the phone. "I don't know," she said after a minute. "What?"

"I'll help you out. Guess who just phoned me?" I was acting like a giddy school kid, and I knew it was probably going to annoy Terry.

She was silent for a minute, and then I heard her breathe in quickly. "Mark? Mark Johnson?"

"Yep, and we made plans to have dinner at my place on Sunday night!"

"That's great! That means that I was right!"

I frowned. Somehow, Terry always made situations into something that was about her. "Well, not really," I told her. "You said he'd call in twenty four hours, on Thursday. It's Sunday today. Technically, you were wrong."

"Yeah, well, I predicted that he'd call, didn't I? I'm a regular psychic! So what are you guys going to be doing?"

"Well, on Sunday after his practice he's coming over here and I'm making us dinner."

Terry made a disapproving sound. "Not good," she said.

"Why is that not good?"

"You need to make him pay for you, Vic. He's going to get the wrong idea from you cooking the two of you dinner. Vic, you're going to make him think he's found himself a nice little housewife!"

I frowned. "I don't think that's what he thinks. He was trying to let me let him pay for the extra groceries I was going to have to buy for his monster appetite."

"Did he really? Vic, I think you might have found yourself a good one, there."

Smiling, I said, "Yeah, I think I might have, too. I need to make a list of things I need to buy, though. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"You got it. Bye."


	6. Chapter 6

**Read and review! You know you want to!**

I started to pick through my fridge, and as I did, I noticed exactly how scant everything was. My milk was outdated, I had left the ketchup and mustard at Mac's place, there was only two pieces of bread left. The only thing that I appeared to have an abundance of was eggs. I pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and started writing things down. A half an hour later, I had written, "milk, cheese, ketchup, mustard" down. Those things would not constitute a filling meal for a hungry hockey superstar from Wisconsin. I grabbed the phone again and dialed my home number.

"Hello, Sommers residence. David speaking." Dad always answered the phone this way and it never ceased to annoy me.

"Hey, Dad. This is Victoria. Is Wade around?"

"Yes, he is. I'll go and get him." There was the sound of the phone being set down, and I heard him walking away. A few moments later, the phone was grabbed again.

"What's up?"

"Wade? Are you busy for the rest of today? Could you do me a massive favour?"

"Uh, well there's that thing I had going on, but I won't be leaving until later this afternoon. What do you need?"

I chewed my bottom lip. "Do you think you could come grocery shopping with me?"

"Why?" Wade sounded confused. "Haven't you been doing that on your own for the past few years?"

"Well, yeah. I just need your input on some things today. I'm buying for a... target audience."

"Are you cooking a meal for me? A surprise meal for me? Victoria, you really shouldn't..."

"No, it's not for you," I cut him off, laughing. "I just need you to tell me which things would be good for a hockey player to eat," I said slowly, figuring the jig was up.

"A hockey player? Re-eally? Is this hockey player, if you don't mind me asking, a superstar from Wisconsin?"

I sighed. "Yeah, it is, okay?"

Wade laughed. "You're making Mark Johnson dinner? At your place? And you don't know what to buy for him? That's great! Yeah, I'll definitely come with you to buy what you need, don't worry." He was talking pretty loudly and I cringed, hoping neither of my parents was nearby to hear, because they would turn the situation into a spectacle, without a doubt.

"You're a life-saver, Wade. You really are. Did Mom or Dad hear anything you just said?"

"No, Dad's upstairs and Mom's... somewhere," Wade said. "Why, is this a secret get together?"

"Not a _secret_," I said impatiently. "I just don't want them making a big deal about it. They nearly brought out the wedding planning scrapbook when I said I went for ice cream with Mark, Wade. Can you imagine what they'd do if they found out about this?"

"It'd be catastrophic," Wade agreed. "Your secret is safe with me. Are you coming to get me now? What should I tell them?"

"Tell them that I'm taking you out to a movie or something; I don't know. Just don't say exactly what we're doing. I'll be by in a half an hour or so. We need to have plenty of time before the stores close."

I drove by the house and picked Wade up a little later, and we went to the grocery store. The entire way, Wade was completely intolerable.

"So, I'm assuming that I'll be invited to the wedding, right? You'll need a ring bearer, and I'd imagine we have some small-ish cousins that could do that..."

"Ugh," I said, putting a hand to my forehead. "I should have just gone on my own. You're being ridiculous."

"I just find it really funny," Wade told me, grinning. "I didn't know you were interested in hockey players. See, we're learning things about each other that we didn't know. It's a good experience for everyone. You just need to figure that out."

I pulled into the parking lot, and Wade followed me into the store, chirping nonsensical things the whole way.

"Maybe you should just be helpful and tell me what hockey players eat," I grumbled as I grabbed a cart and steered it randomly towards an aisle.

"Well, does he have a game or a practice the day after this little dinner party?"

I shrugged. "He has a practice. What does that have to do with anything?"

Wade shook his head disappointedly at me. "If he does, you need to have foods that will give him more energy the next time he's doing something active, right?"

I frowned. "Like what?"

He rolled his eyes at me. "Didn't you pay attention in Biology at school?"

"Did you? What was your mark in Biology?"

Wade gave me a withering look, so I assumed that his mark wasn't really all that good. "That's not important. What's important is that we find you the right foods to feed your superstar. So, the safest thing to make is pasta." Wade paused and grabbed a box with spaghetti in it. "Do you know how to make pasta sauce?"

I shrugged. "I usually just get it from a can."

Wade gave me a patronizing look. "You're going to make a terrible mother." He grabbed a can of ready-made tomato sauce and set it in the cart with the spaghetti.

"Wow, thanks, Wade."

"Remind me to teach you how to cook. No wonder you got such good marks. You didn't take any classes worth taking. I'm guessing the only class you took was English?"

I scowled at him. "Of course not. I took pretty much everything you took. What, did you take Home Ec or something?" I caught an embarrassed look on Wade's face. "Oh my God, Wade, did you take Home Economics?"

Wade huffed. "Yeah, I did. It was an extra credit, and I don't want to end up like you, with no cooking and home skills when I move out of home."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess that's right. You're going to make some man very happy some day, Wade."

"Hey—I could always leave. I have other things I could easily be doing."

"Sure, leave. Walk home, Wade." I grinned at him. "You're stuck here. You might as well help me. You never know, I might let you help the caterers at this big wedding you think will happen."

"Oh, joy," Wade said, laughing. "Fine. I kind of don't see why you can't do this on your own, though. I mean, didn't you pay attention to what Mom and Dad made me for a pre-game meal when you were at home?"

I shrugged. "Not really. That was three years ago, Wade."

"They would always have food that was _healthy_. Like, vegetables and meat and..." He shook the cart. "Pasta. It's not that difficult. Just as long as you don't serve him, say, a gingerbread house covered in melted cheese, you probably can't go wrong."

I wrinkled my nose. "What? I don't think I can even make a gingerbread house."

Wade nodded. "Good. Then, technically, you can't go wrong."

Wade led me through the store, grabbing items. Eventually, I had enough food in the cart to serve Mark a decent portion of pasta with meat sauce and a salad, which was, granted, what I was probably going to make anyway, but Wade grabbed food items for the meal that I probably wouldn't have thought to take. I sheepishly grabbed the cheese, ketchup, mustard, and milk that I needed before we went to pay.

"So," Wade said on the way home, "when are you going to tell Mom and Dad about this little arrangement you have going on?"

I shrugged, turning down our street. "I didn't really plan on telling them. At least, not for a while."

"Really? What if it turns into something serious?"

I turned my head to look at him. "Why such a sudden interest in this? You've never cared who I dated before."

Wade grinned. "Well, the guys before weren't hockey superstars from Wisconsin. I could learn a lot from Mark Johnson."

"Ah, I see. You're in it for the lessons on how to not be terrible at hockey," I said, nodding. "I should have seen it before."

He hit me lightly in the shoulder as I pulled up alongside our house. "That's exactly it. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"You bet," I said.


	7. Chapter 7

**As always, read and review... This will be the last update for at least four days. It's my last pre-uploaded document and I'm so horribly lazy that I won't upload another one for a while. As always, LTJM, thanks for the review! I'm glad you're enjoying it! :) **

The next day I went back home to pick Wade up at around ten thirty. Wade always liked to be at the rink for at least an hour and a half ahead of time, for a reason that he either didn't know, or wouldn't tell me.

"You don't need to stay here for the entire time I'm out there," Wade said, grabbing his bag out of the trunk of my car. "If you have something else you want to be doing, you can go, but you need to be back by around two."

"It's good to know that you have the entire thing planned out," I joked. "No, I think I'll stick around and watch you for a while. I haven't seen you play for a long time."

Wade grinned. "Maybe you'll meet another superstar."

I kicked his bag as I followed him inside.

An hour and a half of waiting later, I settled down onto the hard bleachers of the rink with the order of fries that I had bought. It had been a terrible idea to stay at the rink for such a long time. I had found myself eating more than was necessary. In the time I had been at the rink, I had eaten a burger, a bag of chips, and I had just bought the fries. Wade wasn't even on the ice yet. I grimaced, looking at the fries. I was going to have to pretend to take a really long jog later.

Someone walked past above me, whistling the Olympic theme, and I turned to look. It was Bah Harrington, Buzz Schneider, and two other guys that I hadn't met.

"Hey!" I said loudly, and Bah turned to look. His face cracked into a wide smile when he saw me.

"Vic, ol' girl!" He jumped over the railing and sat down beside me. "What brings you here?"

I gestured at the ice. "My brother is in a camp that's going to happen here eventually."

Bah nodded. "Well, that's good. We just had practice here an hour ago, and we were just getting ready to head out."

Realization hit, and I remembered suddenly a phone conversation with Mac a long time ago, where he had told me all about the team. He had mentioned that they were practicing at the Bloomington Arena. I hadn't been paying close enough attention to him, apparently. "I see," I said. "You guys should stick around and meet Wade after this is over. He'd be over the moon to meet a few of the players on the Olympic team."

He grinned. "I think we could do that, huh, guys? Meet a fan? Maybe give a few autographs? It's the least we can do for our adoring fan base, right?" The rest of the guys laughed. "How old is he? Eleven? Twelve?"

I laughed. "No, he's sixteen."

"Bah!" We turned and looked for the source of the shout. Two other guys were walking in the direction of us. They took seats in the row below ours.

"I'm glad we caught you guys before you left. I wanted to know if you felt like going for something to eat," one of the guys said. He glanced over at me. "Who's this?" He jabbed a thumb in my direction.

"This is Vic Sommers," Bah said, putting an arm around my shoulders. "She's with Johnson."

I frowned. "I am not," I protested.

Bah shrugged. "That's not what I heard. Anyway, this is Jack O'Callahan and Mike Eruzione," he said, pointing to the two guys in front of us. "And this is Dave Silk and Steve Cristoff." He gestured at the two beside him.

"Hi," I said, reaching to shake their hands. "I'm not with Johnson."

"Not what we heard," Jack O'Callahan said, grinning at me. "It's not a big deal, you know? I didn't know that Johnson had the balls to talk to girls, let alone have one tied down."

I opened my mouth and closed it.

"C'mon, OC, be nice," Mike Eruzione said, clapping Jack on the back.

"Only when I have to be," Jack muttered. "Anyway, you guys, were you gonna come with for the food? We'd have to stop back at the apartments first so Rizzo can get himself cleaned up." He elbowed Mike in the side, giving him a grin that showed that Jack was missing a few teeth.

Bah shrugged. "We would, but we promised Vic here that we'd stick around and meet her younger brother after he's done out here today."

"Meeting the fans, huh?" I heard Mark say before I turned and saw him. He was standing above us, looking down and grinning.

"Johnson, we were just talking about you," Buzz said. Mark came down and motioned for me to move down on the bench to make room for him. "Vic seems to think you two aren't together. Remind her otherwise, please."

Mark looked lost for a second, and then he grinned and threw an arm around my shoulders. I raised my eyebrows. "She just wants to give you guys some false hope. Maybe one day you'll find a girl like this."

I looked at Mark out of the corner of my eye, trying to figure out the game he was playing. He mouthed the words, "I'll tell you later," to me, and I frowned, mouthing, "I'd hope so," back to him.

"So, which one is your brother?" Bah asked, nodding at the ice, where the players were starting to file out.

I squinted at the ice for a minute before I spotted Wade. "Right there, in the gray jersey," I said, pointing. The hockey players studied Wade closely. I felt kind of bad for setting the whole group of them on Wade. I had always thought that Wade was a good player, but who knows what other people thought.

"He's a pretty nice skater," Mark commented.

"Yeah," Bah said. "Nice stride. What position does he play?"

I thought, feeling a little guilty that I didn't know. "Center."

"Oh, yeah," Mike Eruzione said, turning back to look at me. "He looks like one. Do you skate or play hockey?"

"Oh, God, no," I said, shaking my head and laughing. "I haven't skated since I was ten, and I sprained my ankle pretty badly that time."

Mike shrugged. "Well, you should get back on skates."

"Definitely," Jack put in. "Hey—Johnson, you could take her skating on a date one of these times. Show her how it's done." He grinned at Mark, who shook his head at him.

"We'll see. Maybe one of these times we will, right?" Mark squeezed me with the arm he had around my shoulders.

"For sure," I said, putting a funny smile on my face. "It won't be pretty, though. I'm sure all the hockey player genes got used on Wade."

"Don't be so negative," Dave Silk said, reaching over and grabbing one of my fries. "We didn't say you had to be a superstar hockey player, did we? Just go skating."

"Yeah, Vic," Bah said, taking a few fries too. "Just go skating. Should we set the date for you two, since you're not being assertive about it?" He turned to look at the rest of the boys. "Well, how about it, boys? What day should Johnson and Vic go on their skating date?"

Buzz screwed his face up. "Well, we're gone for the Europe tour for a week, and when we get back, I'm guessing we'll have some really bad practices... And then we have a game here in Minneapolis. So maybe after that?"

Jack nodded. "That sounds about right. What day would that be?"

"Probably close to the start of September," Dave Cristoff said with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Oh, and guess whose birthday is in September?" Bah said, laughing. "This is working out perfectly, Johnson."

"Your birthday is in September?" I asked Mark, looking at him. He nodded. "What day?"

"The twenty-second," he replied. "Do you have any plans for that day?"

I shrugged. "Nothing yet. It's almost a month away, though."

"Hey—My birthday is in September, too," Buzz put in. "Maybe we can have a big September birthday party, and Vic can bring her hot drunk friend!"

"Yeah," Bah said, turning to me. "Where is ol' Terry, anyway? We had a lot of fun with her the other night."

I laughed. "I'm sure you did. I had to handle her that night, though. You're lucky it was a good night. Sometimes she's an angry drunk."

Bah grinned. "Just our luck, huh? Well, you should bring her to our birthday party. Now that I think of it, someone else's birthday is in September too, right? Who has that sheet with the date-of-births on it?"

Mike pulled out his wallet and tugged a sheet of paper out of a small compartment. "Jesus, Rizzo," Jack admonished. "What the hell do you need to carry it in your wallet for?"

Mike shrugged. "I figured it would come in handy. Turns out it did, didn't it?" He handed the sheet to Bah, who studied it closely.

"Wells," he said thoughtfully. "Wells' birthday is on the eighteenth, and Buzzy's is on the fourteenth." He looked up at us all. "That works out pretty well." He glanced down at the sheet. "Now, May. We could do something impressive with May. There's one, two, three... four birthdays in May. It's too bad we're not all together then."

"Let me see that," Jack said, grabbing the paper out of Bah's hand. "There's four in January too. But I guess we'd be doing crazy prep then, huh? No time for birthday parties." He handed the sheet back to Mike, who slipped it back into his wallet. "I guess September's our best bet."

I sat half listening to them plan a birthday party for the boys born in September, and half watching Wade. As he skated by, he glanced up at the stands and saw me, surrounded by guys. He turned his head to look back. Apparently, he figured out who I was sitting with because I heard him laugh loudly before continuing to skate.

"What'd you say your brother's name was?" Bah asked, noticing me watching him.

"Wade," I told him. "Why...?"

I was cut off when Bah suddenly started hooting and yelling, waving his arms in the air. "Wade! Wade, look over here! Wade, we love you!"

Mortified, I grabbed Bah's arm and pulled him back into his seat. He grinned at me.

"That's how a sister should be acting while she watches her brother play. You're acting like you don't want anyone to notice you."

Wade was looking up into the stands with what looked like a huge grin on his face. The player next to Wade nudged him and nodded up at the stands. Wade shook his head and skated away.

After Wade had finished, the hockey players and I stood in the lobby, waiting for him to come out. I was surprised that no one spoke to the players, who I expected to be treated something like celebrities.

"Does no one know who you are?" I asked Mark discreetly. He looked at me, his brow furrowed.

"What?"

I shook my head, trying to find a way to rephrase the question. "I mean, you're the national hockey team. Shouldn't people be... asking you for autographs or something?"

Mark laughed. "The American Olympic hockey system hasn't done really well in the last couple of Olympics." He shrugged. "I guess we've lost a good portion of our fans because of the last few teams. Besides, no one knows who we are, anyway. It's not like we're in the NHL. We wouldn't be that easy to recognize."

Wade appeared out of the doors leading downstairs where the dressing rooms were. Bah started to clap again and I elbowed him in the side.

"Hey," Wade said, approaching with a smile on his face. He walked right up to Mark and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mark." I wondered if Mark was surprised that Wade recognized him so easily. I know I was.

Mark grinned. "Nice to meet you too. You looked good out there."

Wade shrugged. "Thanks. I try."

"Wade," I said tentatively, not really wanting to break up the nice little moment that was going on between my brother and Mark, "I wanted you to meet a couple of other people, too."

Wade turned to me. "Are you dating them all, too?"

"Kid's a smart-ass," I heard Jack mutter to Mike.

"Kid's a _character_," Bah said, stepping forward. "John Harrington. You can call me Bah. Nice to meet you, buddy."

Wade shook his hand. "Wade Sommers."

One at a time, the rest of the hockey players stepped forward to shake my brother's hand as I watched, smiling. Wade seemed really excited to meet them, and I was happy to have done that for him.

"You're a nice skater," Bah was telling Wade excitedly, having taken a bit of a shine to him. "But you need to work on shooting. I noticed that your aim is sometimes a little bit off. Am I right?"

Wade nodded. "Definitely. When I'm all caught up in the moment I can't focus on one spot. It's something I've always had problems with."

"You just need to relax," Buzz put in. "If you're psyched out, you won't be able to calm yourself down enough to take an accurate shot. Think about something else, you know?"

"Don't give the kid shitty advice, Buzzy," Jack told him. "You just need practice, kid. Do you have a net at home?"

I glanced at Wade involuntarily. He grinned at me. "Kind of," he told Jack. "I'm hoping to get a newer one this Christmas."

"Well, good. Practice shooting at a certain spot on it."

"You know, that makes me think of something I used to do," Mark piped up, and Wade's attention was immediately on him. "I'd take a bunch of pieces of cardboard, and I would cut holes about twice the size of a puck in them, and then tie them to the net. I'd try to hit the holes. I think it really improved my aim."

"That's a pretty good idea," Wade said, and I noticed that he seemed almost in awe of Mark, as if he was a hero of some kind.

The boys talked for a while, and I stood and watched, smiling. After about twenty minutes had passed, Wade looked at me. "Are you taking me out for something to eat?"

I nodded as the rest of the boys laughed. "If you want to. We need to go pretty soon, though, or Mom and Dad'll think that I stole you away. Did you guys want to come?" I asked the hockey players, wanting to be polite.

"Nah, not today," Jack said, speaking, I assumed, for the group. "I want to get home and get cleaned up before we go and eat. That might take a while."

Wade led the way out of the rink, and I felt someone grab my upper arm just as I was about to get into my car. I looked up and saw Mark there. "Oh, right," I said, grinning. "You had something to explain to me."

Mark smiled apologetically. "Yeah. It was a kind of bad situation. The other night, a few of the boys came back to the apartment building with a few girls, and they were trying to set me up with one of them." He grimaced. "She wasn't my type, needless to say, so I told them that I was seeing someone, and when they asked me who, yours was the first name I thought of."

I raised my eyebrows. "So I have to pretend to be dating you?"

He grinned sheepishly. "Would it be such a big chore? Could you just play along for a while?"

"Johnson, come on! We don't have all day, man!"

Mark glanced over his shoulder. "I guess that's my cue to leave. Will you play along?"

I shrugged. "Sounds like fun?"

He smiled at me. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow, then." He turned to go.

"Kiss her, you fool!" Jack yelled from the car, and the rest of the boys hooted their approval.

Mark looked back at me, a scandalised look on his face.

I grinned and daintily stuck my cheek out. Mark leaned in and kissed it quickly before running off to the sounds of his teammates cat-calling at him. I turned and reached for the door of my car, and jumped back. Wade was leaning across the driver's seat, having rolled down the window and listened to our conversation.

"He's a real Casanova, isn't he? Kisses you and runs off like a dirty thief."

"Yeah, shut up. You loved him."

**If you're reading this, you're obligated to review. B A M. **


	8. Chapter 8

**So, this is just a really quick update, and I know it's short and not really about anything at all, but I decided to post this now, so the next chapter wasn't really really ridiculously long. Anyway, **

**LTJM: Thanks for the review, as always! :) I'm so happy you're enjoying the story! **

**likeeatingglass: I'm glad you're liking it! Thanks for reading! :) **

That night I woke up with a yelp, sitting straight up in bed. I clutched my chest for a minute, trying to calm myself down a little bit, staring around my room.

I had had one of my nightmares. I had been having them since I was seven years old, and I had never figured out what happened in them that was so scary; I just always woke up out of breath and terrified. I hadn't had one since I moved into my own apartment, and I had forgotten just how awful they were.

Leaning back into my pillows, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, feeling my heart rate starting to slow down. I reached involuntarily for the phone beside my bed, and stopped myself. I had told my mom that I wasn't going to call anymore when I had a nightmare, and that I would try to find another way to deal with it. A glance at the clock told me that it was nearly four in the morning. I screwed up one side of my mouth, thinking. If I were to call Terry, there was always the chance that she was still awake, having been out that night. I had told her about the nightmares when we first met in our first year at the university. If I remembered correctly, she had told me to call her if I ever needed her. I chewed my thumbnail, contemplating whether or not to call her. I bit down on my thumb as I leaned over, grabbing the phone and holding it to my ear with my shoulder as I dialed her number.

The phone only rang twice before Terry picked up. "Hello?" she didn't sound like she was tired at all.

"Terry, hey," I said. "Are you awake?"

"Sure, I just got in," she replied. "Are you okay?"

I pushed my hair off of my forehead and took a breath. "Yeah, I'm fine, I guess. I just had one of those stupid nightmares. I needed to talk to someone."

"Oh! That's fine. You're alright now, right?"

"Right. I usually just need someone to talk to, to calm myself down after I have one, you know?"

There were sounds of things being moved around on Terry's end. "Yeah, okay. I'll calm you down, hon. How was your day today?"

"It was good, I guess. I took Wade to his hockey camp this afternoon and ran into a bunch of those hockey players from the Olympic team." I slumped into my pillows. Talking to someone always helped after one of my nightmares. I could feel myself getting tired again.

Terry gasped. "Really? Did you see Mark? And Mac?"

I shook my head. It was an unfortunate habit of mine. I always gestured while on the phone like I was talking to the person face to face. It was a little embarrassing. "I didn't see Mac, but I did see Mark. We're apparently dating now."

"What?"

"Yeah, he told the guys that the two of us were something of an item to avoid getting together with a trashy girl. Cute, huh?"

Terry laughed. "That's pretty funny, actually. So, did he do anything to prove that you were 'together'?"

"Well, he had to kiss me before we left, pretty much due to peer pressure. And he had his arm around me while we were sitting at the rink. Needless to say, it was pretty awkward."

"He kissed you?" I could almost feel Terry vibrating with excitement over the phone. "Where, and how long?"

"It was _not_ a big deal," I said, laughing. "but it was just on the cheek, and it was pretty quick. He was absolutely embarrassed."

"If it happened, then it _was_ a big deal! He seems like such a sweetheart! I don't remember much of when I actually met him. You should introduce us formally some time."

I chuckled. "Oh, of course. That's definitely on my list of things to do. I'm kind of excited for him to come over tomorrow now, Terry. Is that good?"

Terry snorted. "What are you, thirteen? You don't know by now that feeling excited or nervous means that you like the guy? Vic, that's so cute."

Grimacing, I said, "Come on. It's just… He's really nice, you know? I haven't really been looking for guys for a while, and the way he just showed up is different than any other guy I've met."

Terry hummed happily. "You like him. I'm so excited for you guys to start officially dating."

"Terry, I find it really funny that you're more excited than I am."

"Don't be such a cynic. You know you're excited and happy that you found a nice guy that you like, Vic."

I screwed up my mouth. "You and my brother both have a funny way of taking a tiny situation and making it into a big event," I said, and Terry laughed. "But I think I'm about calmed down now. Thanks so much for being so good about it."

"No problem," Terry said. "If I don't talk to you tomorrow, good luck with your future husband!"

"Yeah, we'll see," I said, laughing. "Goodnight, Terry."

"Night, Vic."


	9. Chapter 9

**Here's the next update... Posting pre-written chapters is catching up to me and now I actually have to be pressed to write these... Eek. Anyway... **

**LTJM: Thanks for the review! :) Glad you're liking the relationship between Vic and Terry!  
**

The next day, after a few hours of cooking in the small kitchen of my apartment, I found myself sitting at the table surrounded by plates of food that _I_ had cooked. I felt strangely proud of myself for being able to do it on my own, especially since I was so nervous.

Mark had phoned twenty minutes ago to tell me that he was on his way over from the rink. If my calculations were correct (and I was very sure that they were), Mark would be showing up at any moment.

Almost as if to prove how intelligent I was, there was a knock at the door. I jumped to my feet, nearly knocking over a chair on the way to the door. I pulled it open, taking a deep breath.

It wasn't Mark. It was my next door neighbor, Nathan.

I blinked. "Oh. I thought it would be you."

Nathan looked confused. "How?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Sorry. What can I do for you, Nathan?"

"I was just wondering if I could take a shower here."

"What?"

Nathan laughed. "That sounded stupid. My shower is broken, you see, and I can't shower there. I would go over to Gary's, you know, across the hall from me, but he's not home; I have no idea where he is. My parents are coming over in an hour and I completely forgot, so I need somewhere to take a shower."

I stared at him, mortified. I had barely ever talked to Nathan, and I had literally no idea who Gary was. I really needed to start socializing with people in my building. Apparently it was crawling with university students. "I absolutely would, Nathan," I said. "But this isn't really the best time. I'm expecting someone to come by in a few minutes."

"Oh, but I'd only be a second," Nathan said hurriedly. "If I ran back to my place and grabbed a towel now I could be in and out of here in about five minutes. I'll be really quick."

I sighed, glancing down the hallway. "Alright. I'll leave the door open for you to run back in here."

Nathan grinned at me. "Thanks so much, Victoria. I really appreciate this." He disappeared back down the hallway and into his apartment.

Sinking back into my seat at the table, I glanced at the clock on the wall. Mark was going to be here any minute, and I had a strange guy showering in my apartment. I grimaced and turned to look out the window anxiously, jumping when Nathan re-entered the room, wearing nothing but a towel. I turned my head, embarrassed, and he laughed.

"Sorry. I thought you left the room. One second."

I heard him prancing across the room and a moment later I heard the water turn on. Sighing, I saw that he had left the door open, so I got to my feet and went to close it. Just as I was pushing it closed, a hand flew out of nowhere and caught the door. I let out a yell and took a step back. The door re-opened and Mark was revealed, grinning at me.

"A little jumpy, are we? Sorry if I scared you." He walked cautiously into the room, running a hand through his hair, which was wet.

I shook my head. "No, I just didn't expect you for a while, that's all. How was practice?"

Mark shrugged. "Kind of terrible, as always." He turned to the table. "I'm starved. I sure hope you're a good cook."

Grinning, I said, "I wouldn't be expecting a whole lot. To be completely honest, I had to recruit my brother to help with buying the food. I had no idea what to make for you." I re-took my seat at the table and Mark sat down across from me.

"I wouldn't be too honest if I were you. I think it's a big thing if you don't know what kinds of food to make for me. This might be the end of us."

Looking across the table at my wilted salad and slightly undercooked pasta, I laughed. "I wouldn't blame you."

Mark ruffled a napkin primly, grinning at me. "Well, I'm glad we agree. Now, I'll just eat some of this and be on my…"

He was interrupted by the sound of my bathroom door opening. To my absolute horror, Nathan emerged from the bathroom, his towel wrapped tightly around his waist. "The water pressure in your shower is much better than mine was, even before it was broken. Would you mind if I…" he looked up and saw Mark sitting and looking at him, his eyebrows raised, and me staring horror struck at him. Hardly missing a beat, Nathan stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "How's it going, man? Nathan Burris."

Mark jumped to his feet, taking Nathan's hand and shaking it. "Mark Johnson. Nice to meet you."

An odd moment passed where Mark and Nathan kind of sized each other up for a second, and I felt the need to say something. "Nathan was—err. He was…"

Nathan looked over at me, a perplexed look on his face. "I was showering," he told Mark conversationally. "See, the shower in my place is messed up, so I've been using my friend Gary's—he lives across the hall—but he's gone somewhere today, and Victoria was nice enough to let me use hers."

Mark nodded politely, jutting his chin out oddly. "That's… great. You're a friend of Vic's?"

Nathan glanced at me. "Well, actually, we haven't really ever talked or hung out or anything, so I'm starting to see why she was so against letting me in here in the first place."

"I wasn't against it," I said exasperatedly. "I knew that Mark was coming over here really soon and I wanted to avoid… this, basically."

Both guys laughed. "Well, now, it's not all bad," Nathan said cheerfully, whacking Mark on the shoulder. "I made a new friend, right? It's okay." He looked down at himself and seemed to realize for the first time that he was only wearing a towel. "I guess it's about time to let myself out, though. You two seemed busy. I'll talk to you guys another time, alright?" He hastily made his way to the door.

"Bye," Mark said in a friendly way, waving. As soon as the door shut, he turned to me, a huge grin cracking his face. "If you already had company…"

I let out a loud laugh. "I completely forgot about him in there, I swear to God! I'm so sorry!"

Mark shook his head. "No, it's fine. He was a nice guy. A little different, but still pretty nice."

"Yeah, he is. I've never really talked to him, but he helped me move in here a few years ago. Apparently he's from California. Impressive, right?"

Mark chuckled. "Why would he want to come here to go to school if he was from California? It gets so cold around here in the winter."

"Oh, I see. You're against Minnesota?" I glared at him across the table briefly before grinning.

He shook his head, his eyes widened innocently. "No no. Nothing like that. I really like Minnesota. I was actually born here in Minneapolis. I just don't get why…"

I cut him off, shaking my head. "I was joking. Tell me more about you being from here, though. I don't know anything about you, now that I think about it."

Mark frowned. "I guess that's right. We don't really talk, you know? That could really put a strain on my relationship." He laughed and then paused, thinking. "Well, I was born in Minneapolis, like I said. My dad actually grew up here. He's a coach. I think I might have mentioned that before. He was a medic in Korea and a History teacher… I always thought that was kind of neat," Mark said, smiling, and I could tell that he was proud of his dad.

"What about your mom?" I asked.

"She's just a mom," Mark said, the proud smile never leaving his face. "My dad was away a lot with his job, you know, so she just stuck around at home and did stuff for us kids. She had a lot to do, too, with five of us. Three girls and two boys," he said, seeing me about to ask. "Anyway, we moved to Madison when I was ten so Dad could coach at the university there. We've lived there ever since." Mark nodded in a finite kind of way, signifying that the story was over. "What about you? What's the scoop on Vic?"

I frowned. "There's not a lot to say about Vic. I was born in St. Paul, and we moved here when Wade was born and when I was five, and then just stayed here. Both of my parents are teachers, I think I said that before… and I only have one brother, Wade."

Mark nodded slowly, smiling. "See, now I feel like I know you a bit better. I don't feel completely out at sea when I talk about you."

"You talk about me?" I asked, surprised.

"Of course," Mark said, laughing. "We're going out, remember?"

"Yeah," I said, "but I thought you'd just avoid talking about me if you didn't know a thing about me. What've you said?"

He shrugged. "I just told them that you were a writer-type and…" He stopped talking, a grin spreading across his face. "Don't get mad," he said slowly.

"What?"

"I kind of told them this long-winded story that explained the reason why you don't like hockey players," he said, smiling embarrassedly.

I blinked. "When did I say that I didn't like hockey players?"

"You never did. The guys that didn't have girlfriends didn't get why you weren't falling in love with all of them that day at Mac's place, so they asked me why, and I told them that you used to go out with a guy from your high school that played hockey, and you two were all in love and you thought you really had a future with him, but one day he got a letter from a school in Canada that was offering a full ride scholarship and a spot on the hockey team there. You two had planned to go to school together in Minneapolis, but in the end he chose hockey over you and left, so you don't like hockey players anymore because you think they'll leave you again."

There was a long moment where Mark and I looked at each other. "Well, that's… just heartbreaking," I said, laughing, and Mark started laughing too. "Come on; eat something before it gets cold. It doesn't look that bad, does it?"

Mark grinned. "No, it looks great."

Mark and I ate, not really talking, but not really needing to at the same time. It was like we'd known each other for such a long time that clever conversation wasn't really needed. The fact that my food was edible was a bit of a shock to me, seeing as I'd be completely in tatters mentally when I had made it. I wasn't really even eating much of it myself. Mostly I just watched Mark eat, nervously waiting for him to spit something out, but he never did, and I decided that this was a good sign.

After we had finished eating, Mark dutifully helped me with the dishes. I was sure that based on that alone, my mother would probably want me to marry Mark. She always told me that if I found a man that was willing to help with house work, I should grab a rope and tie him down before he got away. I smiled as I thought about this while I washed and he dried and put the dishes all away.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Am I doing it wrong?"

I shook my head. "No no. I'm just thinking about something my mom used to say to me."

Mark placed some plates in my cupboard. "Oh? What was that?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Something about how men who help with the dishes and other stuff are keepers. You wouldn't want to worry about it."

"So, you're saying that I'm a keeper?" Mark grinned at me. "Well, thanks. You're not too bad yourself. We make a good couple." He whipped me with the cloth he was drying the dishes with.

"Of course we do," I said, laughing and moving out of his reach. As I walked backwards past the table, I whacked my heel on it and stumbled, tripped over a chair and fell over. I heard Mark let out a bark of laughter before he was at my side, his face contorted with the effort of trying not to keep laughing. After getting over the shock of finding myself on the floor, I started laughing, and Mark allowed himself to sit down on the floor beside me, shaking with laughter.

Once we got started, it was hard to stop laughing. I put my hand on Mark's shoulder to get to my feet, and somewhere in the transition, I ended up on my back, kissing Mark with my arms around his neck.

"It's late," I murmured after a while, finding myself out of breath and thinking that I was horribly out of shape.

"My practice is later in the afternoon tomorrow," Mark replied.

I struggled to sit up. "No, I mean… it's _late._"

Mark sat up, stretching his legs out over mine. "Oh. You're hinting that you want me to leave." He got slowly to his feet, holding out a hand to pull me up after him.

I followed him quickly as he made his way to the door. "Please don't take this the wrong way, Mark," I said, realizing that I'd offended him. Of course I'd offended him. I basically pushed him away from me in the worst way. "I mean, it's not that I wasn't having a good time. I was. It's just…" I reached out and grabbed his hand. He stopped and looked at me, a puzzled look on his face. "I don't really know what to think, you know? You're not going to be here for a really long time, and I don't know what I'm going to do if I get involved with someone when there's a time limit on it." I paused for a breath and watched Mark, who was still looking at me with a strange expression on his face.

He took my other hand. "Look," he said. "I get it. But I don't think you're seeing the big picture here. I wouldn't be here right now if I didn't think there was something going on between us. It's not something I do a lot, but I'm willing to make an effort because I have a feeling that this," he shook my hands, smiling, "would be kind of nice."

I smiled back at him. "I'm glad you think that. I think I agree with you."

We stood there for a second, him being quiet and me trying to figure out something romantic and clever to say, before Mark glanced up over my shoulder at the clock hanging on the wall. "Oh. Jesus. You were right. It actually is late." He looked back down at me with an expression of strange urgency on his face. "Look, I don't think I'll be able to do anything with you this next week, because I really need to focus on the hockey right now, and then I'm gone for ten days. I don't know if…"

I shook my head. "It's fine. Focus on the hockey. Good luck out there, okay? Don't get hurt or anything. The Olympics aren't that far away, and you wouldn't want to ruin your chances of playing there or anything." I stopped talking before I could make a fool of myself. Mark regarded me curiously for a second, and then gave me a hug.

"I guess I'll see you when I get back. Don't go forgetting me while I'm away, okay?"

"I won't. Good luck out there." I grimaced, staring over Mark's shoulder as we hugged. I had no idea what the hell I was talking about.

Mark smiled at me over his shoulder as he pulled the door shut behind him. I stared at the door for about thirty seconds, contemplating what had just happened before yanking the door back open and racing out. I'd heard too many sob stories from girls who'd let the guy just walk away without letting him know where they stood. I decided that I didn't want to be one of those girls. I needed him to know how I actually felt.

The hallway was empty. He'd already gone outside. I galloped out the door, nearly tripping over the front step, yelling at Mark's retreating back. "Wait, wait!"

Mark turned and I ran into him with quite a bit of momentum, forcing him back a few steps. I looked at him for about a second before kissing him. Mark put one of his hands around my back and the other in my hair and kissed me back.

I pulled away, trying to hide the fact that I was incredibly out of breath. "I'll be waiting here for you to get back," I said to him. "Don't forget that, okay?"

He smiled at me. "I won't. I promise. I'll call you as soon as I get back." He turned to go. "Oh, and Vic?"

"Hmm?"

"Good luck out there."

I laughed and turned to walk back into the building. It was official. Mark Johnson was probably the man of my dreams.


	10. Chapter 10

**turntostone -** Thanks for the (tenth, yay) review! Glad you're enjoying it and I hope you like this next update!

**LTJM** - As always, thanks for the review! Oddly enough, something a lot like Nathan needing Vic's shower happened to me once. That's where I got the idea from. ;l And yeah, it was _ridiculously_ awkward. :) Hope you like the next update!

**GIGS** - Yaaay, new reviewer! I'm happy you're getting into Miracle... it's an incredible movie. :) Thanks for the comments on my story, and I'm glad you're enjoying it! I hope you like the new update!

After Mark left, I settled in to bed and fell asleep almost at once, and then after what seemed like twenty minutes of sleep, I woke with a start. I punched the bed, realizing I'd had another nightmare. This one had been a fairly good one, as far as the nightmares themselves went. The fear that came with them ebbed away as soon as I woke up, which was different. Usually it took me a few minutes to calm down. I leaned back against pillow, starting to feel sleepy again. Maybe the fact that the nightmares were fading away was a sign that I was growing up, and out of them altogether. I hoped so. The fact that they'd started again was a little annoying.

*

The next morning, I got a phone call from my mother. I knew something less than satisfactory had happened by the tone of voice she used on the phone.

"I got a letter today," she said briskly. "From the university."

All of my mail ended up getting sent to my parents' house, which was fine. By some crazy twist of luck, they were paying all of my bills as long as I was in school and kept my grades decent. "Oh? About what?"

"The letter is from the school of Journalism," Mom told me.

"Oh! Did I get in?"

Mom coughed away from the phone. "You didn't," she said, disappointment staining her voice."I'm not happy about this, Victoria."

I frowned. "Neither am I, Mom! I can't help that they didn't accept me, can I?"

"No, I suppose you can't. I think you should consider getting a job."

"Why?"

"Well, as you're not going to be going to school this year, our little agreement is off. Your father and I won't be able to pay for you to live away from home if you aren't in university. That was the agreement, if you remember. Besides, I think it's time you started to learn a little responsibility, Victoria." She had applied her lecture voice and seeing that I was about to be treated to "Why You Aren't Good Enough 101", I decided to get out off the phone with her.

"Okay, I'll start looking for a job. I really have to go, though, Mom. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Wait just a minute-"

"Love you! Bye!" I put the receiver down, staring at the phone like it was a monster. I felt kind of bad for snubbing off my mom the way that I had, but what I needed at that moment wasn't a long lecture. What I needed was Terry and her methods of remedy. I grabbed the phone again and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Terry?"

"Vic! I was going to phone you later today! How was your little dinner date with Mr. Johnson?"

"It was great," I said hurriedly. "Look, I think we're long overdue for a night on the town, don't you agree?"

Terry laughed. "Yes! I was hoping you'd man up and want to come out with me again! I'll come over there at eight tonight so we can get dolled up?"

I nodded excitedly. "Okay. I'll see you then?"

"You bet. Bye, babe!"

I hung up the phone, glad to have distracted myself from feeling sorry for myself for the time being. The truth was, I was actually really disappointed to find out that I hadn't gotten into the school of Journalism. I had heard that the school was really hard to get into, which made me feel a little bit better. The school only accepted something like forty-five students every year. I'd just have to try again next year, and make sure that I got in. In the meantime… I had to get a job. My stomach dropped at the prospect of that. At twenty-one years old, I had never had a job. I'd tried when I was about sixteen, but my parents had stopped me, telling me that as long as I didn't necessarily need a job, I shouldn't bother getting one. That was a real shit move on their part, when I thought about it now. I didn't even know what I was supposed to try and do. There was always the clichéd job of a waitress.

I sighed and grabbed a piece of paper, scribbled the words "JOB HUNT" on it, and taped it to the wall next to the phone. That was my way of reminding myself to do something, not that remembering to find a job would be a really hard thing to remember to do, seeing as my parents weren't going to be paying my rent anymore and I was going to need to come across some money sooner or later.

Later on that night, Terry appeared at my door, armed with her signature knapsack, which I knew for a fact was full of booze. She grinned at me as I opened the door and danced inside, an excited grin on her face.

"Party time, baby!" Terry opened her knapsack, and to my surprise, it wasn't full of alcohol, but makeup and hair product. I gave her a confused look.

"I don't think we'll have as much fun drinking that hairspray as we would be drinking other kinds of stuff," I told her seriously, and she laughed.

"No, no. It's for us to get dolled up, Vic! You agreed to it on the phone!"

I sighed resignedly. "Fine. Where are we going tonight, anyway?"

Terry dumped the contents of her bag onto the floor. "Do you remember my friend Alan Perry? He invited a few people over tonight, and I thought we should go there instead of out to a bar or something. By the way, you're driving tonight. I've had the _worst_ week."

I frowned. "Okay, I guess. My parents always said that the best times happen when you don't drink, anyway."

Terry snorted. "They just told you that to keep you out of trouble. Mine used to tell me that people who drank a lot of alcohol were damned to hell automatically, with no chance of ever getting better."

I glanced over at her. "And you didn't really believe that, I'm guessing?"

She shrugged. "My family isn't even religious. I have no idea why they thought that trick would work on me."

I laughed. "Well, it's good to know that you avoided being tricked. I'm guessing you'll be drinking tonight?"

"You'd be guessing right. Alan told me that there wasn't any need to bring alcohol over there. Apparently he went shopping today." She sounded really excited. "Oh, wow, I'm so rude," she said suddenly, hitting herself on the forehead. "I didn't even ask you for the complete story on what happened with Mark last night. How'd it go?"

"Really good," I admitted.

"Do you mean good, or _good_?" Terry asked, grinning at me.

I frowned at her. "It was… somewhere in between those two, I guess."

Terry leaned towards me, her face alight with interest. "What happened? Did you…" she let the sentence trail off, and it was clear what she was implying.

"No! Nothing like that. I mean, we kissed, but other than that, we just talked, and it was nice, you know? I think I might really like him, Terry."

Terry let out an excited sounding squeal. "Really? That's so great! Tell me everything that happened, from the time he walked in the door to the moment he left. Go!"

I obediently told her the whole story, from Nathan needing a shower until Mark left the apartment, while she danced around my head, doing my hair and fussing over make-up. I had long finished speaking before she pronounced me finished.

"Well, now that I can give it my whole attention," Terry said, wiping her hands on a cloth, "that's probably one of the cutest things I've ever heard." She grinned. "I hope my little thing with Mac works out that well."

"Oh, is it a _thing_, now?" I asked. "I thought you were just considering taking up an interest in hockey."

Terry shrugged. "I was thinking about giving him a call tonight, but then you called and I decided that I'd rather have a night out."

"How sweet," I told her, laughing. "It's a good thing you didn't. Mark told me he wasn't going to be able to really be sociable this week because the hockey'll probably be so bad. I don't think I ever want to meet their coach."

She laughed. "Well, you said his dad is a coach too, right? If you ever end up meeting him, just hope that he's not the same as this guy who coaches Mark right now." Terry disappeared into the bathroom and I heard her fumbling around in front of the mirror. "Okay, so what do you think?" She came back into the living room, having done… something, in the bathroom. I could honestly not see anything different about how she looked.

"It's good," I said, taking a shot in the dark. This seemed to satisfy Terry.

"Excellent. I want to look good for Alan tonight."

I frowned. "Weren't we just talking about how you wanted to be with Mac?"

Terry shrugged. "I like to keep my options open. Come on, let's get going, huh? I'm so excited!" She gave me a broad grin and then led the way out of my apartment, and I followed, trying to remember Alan Perry and if he was better in any way than Mac.


	11. Chapter 11

**LTJM - Thanks for the review! I'm guessing you found your story idea, seeing as you posted a new story... :P It's good, by the way! :) Thanks for reading!**

**turntostone - Thanks for the read and review! Yeaah, I know, things sort of suck for Vic... They'll get better, I promise.  
**

From the moment Terry and I showed up at Alan Perry's party, Terry disappeared into the people and left me to my own devices, which I was used to. She fastened herself to Alan Perry, who, in my opinion, looked like the worst part of Sylvester Stallone. He looked like he'd been a few too many fights, and had lost nearly all of them.

I sat down on a couch and found myself talking to Alan's brother Lance, who told me that he didn't like his name, and insisted that I refer to him simply as "Perry".

"What's wrong with your name? I mean, if you don't mind me asking," I said, because I'd been wondering.

Perry shrugged. "I've just never liked it. Lance seems like a name for a… I don't know, like some kind of pretentious jackass, you know?"

I laughed. "I've actually never thought about it that way before. I don't think I've ever met anyone named Lance."

"I'm your first, huh?" Perry grinned suggestively at me and I tried not to laugh.

"Yeah, sure. My first Lance."

"I should have known," he said, faking disappointment.

I patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it. You should try for girls younger than you. Maybe they'll never have had a guy of any name, let alone a Lance."

"High school girls always _cling_," Perry complained.

"No no, I mean maybe a nice twenty year old girl, you know?"

Perry looked confused. "Why would I go for a twenty year old girl if I wanted someone younger than me?"

"Well, because…" I paused. "Wait, what? How old _are_ you?"

He grinned. "Nineteen."

I laughed, surprised. "Seriously? You're only nineteen?"

"Yup. My brother always told me that I could pick up half of the girls that come to his house for parties and stuff just as long as I never told them my age. Why, how old are you?"

"I'm almost twenty-two," I said, laughing. "I'll be twenty-two in December. You know what, Perry?" I asked, and Perry shook his head. "That makes you a _youngling_."

"Oh _come on_," Perry protested. "I'll be twenty in June."

I shook my head. "You're still two years younger than me. That's crazy. I can't believe you're only nineteen, Perry. That shatters my whole universe."

Perry leaned closer to me. "How old do I look?"

"Older."

Perry was dangerously close to me now. "Well, that's all that really matters," he said quietly, and pressed his lips to mine.

I leaned back abruptly, probably looking like I'd gotten some kind of shock. "What?" I said dumbly, and Perry grinned at me.

"Sorry. It seemed like a good moment to kiss you. I never asked you—do you have a boyfriend?"

I shook my head. "Well," I said, thinking about it, "I'm not sure. I have a boy, that's for sure. I don't really know what we are right now. He's really busy, and he probably won't have a lot of time for a girlfriend right now, you know, and I'm not completely sure how he feels about me, anyway, so it's not really safe to think that we're together. We had dinner the other night…" I stopped talking abruptly, seeing Perry grinning amusedly at me.

"Are you nervous or something? Or do you always talk like that?" he asked.

"Sorry," I said embarrassedly.

He grinned again. "Well, on the bright side, I feel like I know you better. Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but from what you just said, I understand that you _don't _have a boyfriend, but there is a guy who you like, but you don't know how he feels about you?"

I nodded. "It would have saved a lot of time to have just said that."

"Don't worry about it," Perry said thoughtfully. "That's an age-old situation, you know? What's this guy like?"

"He's a hockey player," I told him. "And he's only here for a while, until February, so I don't know how long we could keep anything going when he moved back."

Perry regarded me for a second, apparently trying to think of the right thing to say. "Hockey players… aren't usually too good of guys," he said bracingly. "I mean, who knows, this guy might be something different, but most hockey players I've met have been 'fuck and chuck' kind of guys, you know what I mean?" I nodded, and he shrugged. "I'm not saying it'll happen, but hey—if he hurts you, you know where to find me, right?"

"You have a very… disarming personality, did you know that?" I said simply, raising my eyebrows at him.

He looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when you talk, you just tear apart anything I thought made sense in my mind. I have literally nothing to say to what you just told me."

"Oh, so I render you speechless?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. It's really frustrating."

Perry grinned. "Not bad for a kid of nineteen, right? Look," he said, grabbing a pen off of the table beside us, "take my number." He seized my hand and scribbled on it for a second before dropping it. "I was serious before. If this guy screws you over, give me a call."

"I'll do that," I told him, laughing.

"Vic," Terry said, marching up. "Let's get the hell out of here. Alan's being an asshole." She stood in front of the couch, hands planted on her hips. It didn't even look like she'd been drinking.

"Why…?" I peered around Terry and saw Alan wrapped around another girl. "Oh." I got to my feet, and so did Perry. "Uh, Terry, this is Alan's brother Lance. Perry, this is my friend Terry Miller."

"Just call me Perry," he said, holding out a hand for her to shake. "That's kind of funny, huh? Perry meeting Terry…" He chuckled and I smiled at him.

Terry shook his hand hurriedly. "Nice to meet you, Perry," she said. "Vic, I really want to get out of here. I'm humiliated."

"Alright," I said. "It was nice talking to you, Perry," I said, turning to him. Perry surprised me by giving me a hug.

"You too," he said into my ear. "Remember, write that number down as soon as you get home."

"Okay," I said, laughing. "I'll see you around."

"Hopefully," he said.

I followed Terry out of the house, and into the car. Terry slumped against the dashboard as I pulled out of the driveway.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, steering onto the freeway.

"He told me that I'd have to settle for being number two," Terry grumbled into her arms. "Number _two_, Vic. He had the balls to not only tell me that he wanted to date more than one girl, but that I was going to be second fiddle. Why do I only pick assholes, Vic?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Mac's a nice guy. Maybe you should give him a shot."

"Maybe I should just give being a lesbian a shot."

I laughed. "Come on. Don't give up hope. Give Mac a call next week sometime. I'm sure he'd be really happy to hear from you, you know?"

Terry sat up, running her hands through her hair. "I'll do that," she said. "You know, there's probably something to these hockey players." She eyed me suspiciously for a second. "Speaking of which, what were you doing cheating on your hockey player? I saw you kissing Alan's brother."

"He kissed _me_," I protested. "Have you ever talked to him? That guy is absolutely impossible! I was just _flustered _talking to him."

She snorted. "Sounds like you like him. Did you get his number?"

I held up my hand. "Yeah, but I doubt I'll ever call him."

"Why not? He was kind of cute, and he seemed like he liked you, didn't he?"

"I guess so. But Terry—He's _nineteen_."

Terry frowned. "No, he's not. There's no way that guy is nineteen. He's got to be older than Alan, at least. Maybe twenty five."

I shook my head. "Seriously. He's only nineteen. Unless he was lying to me, and I don't know why he would."

"That's the craziest thing I've ever heard. He could probably have gotten into bars at the age of sixteen. Oh wow. I didn't even know that. But it's only two years, Vic, and he looks so much older than he is…"

I cut her off. "I'm going to see where the thing I have going goes first, Terry," I said, laughing. "I think I might like Mark a little bit more than someone I just met tonight. Does that make sense?"

"I guess so," Terry said, grinning. "You'll just have to give him a call if anything screws up with Mark."

"Yeah, it was weird," I said, remembering what Perry had said. "He kept saying to give him a call if Mark ever screwed me over. It was like he expects it to happen."

"Who knows?" Terry shrugged. "I mean, he knows guys better than you do, doesn't he? He's a guy. Maybe he knows something you don't. You're probably going to want to hang onto that number, just in case."

I looked at the back of my hand on the steering wheel, where Perry had written his number. Even the way that he wrote was kind of irritating. "Maybe."

I dropped Terry off at the apartment building that she lived in and started to drive home. While I drove, I was so deep in thought I almost hit a car emerging from a side-street. "Jesus," I muttered to myself. I was thinking about how ridiculous it was that just lately, boys, or men, or whatever, were showing up all around me. First Mark, and then Nathan needing my shower and taking a liking to it, and now Perry. I usually just talked to my brother and considered that to be my male interaction for the time being. According to my mom, I was supposed to be keeping an eye out for my future husband, and I knew that if she could have seen me before just recently, she would have been disappointed with the results I was getting.

As I pulled up to my building, it dawned on me that I didn't even tell Terry that I didn't get into the school of Journalism. I wondered to myself how something so important could have slipped my mind, especially since it was the reason for wanting to go out in the first place.

When I got inside, I studied the number written on my hand for a brief moment before grabbing a pen and a small piece of paper. I scrawled the number onto it and taped it next to the phone, beside the envelope with Mac's number on it, and the piece of paper reminding me to look for a job.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hey! I didn't disappear off the face of the Earth! Sorry for going so long without updates. I just didn't really feel like writing, and when I did, it looked and sounded completely insincere and bland. I'm still not completely happy with what I'm posting right now, but I thought I should put this up now so the next chapter wouldn't be so horribly long. I want to avoid having another chapter longer than 3,000 words. Anyway...**

**turntostone - Thanks for the review... I'm glad you enjoyed it! :) **

**LTJM - Thanks for reading and reviewing... I hope you enjoy the next few updates!**

**GIGS - Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hah, yeah, it's a miracle in itself that Terry managed to keep herself together at the party, that's for sure. xD Glad you enjoyed it!  
**

The next day, I decided that there was no time like the present to start my job search. I stepped out for a minute to buy a newspaper and started looking. The more I looked, the more I realized that I had literally no job experience, so there was a very good chance that no one would be willing to hire me. I kept up a steady flow of curses in the direction of my parents, seeing as, in my opinion, it was their fault that I avoided ever getting even a part-time job growing up, so therefore it was also their fault that I was finding myself unable to find a job when I actually needed one.

Giving up on the newspaper, I started searching my apartment for the resume I'd made in high school. I knew that I'd brought it with me, but somehow it'd disappeared into thin air, as far as I could tell.

Eventually I gave up looking for a job and for the damned resume, somehow convincing myself that the next day would be a better day to find a job. To make it seem like I'd done something, I circled a random job listing in the newspaper and tossed it down on the table. As an afterthought, I grabbed a small piece of paper and scribbled "BETTER JOB HUNT" on it, taping this piece of paper directly above the phone.

Somewhat satisfied, I sat down heavily on the couch and tried to think of a productive way to use up the day. Almost as if on cue, the phone started to ring and I reached for it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Vic?" It was Mark.

I was so surprised that I almost forgot what I was doing. "Oh—hey! I didn't expect to hear from you until you got back from Europe! How are you?"

"I'm good," he replied. "I figured that I was being a bit dramatic when I said I wouldn't be able to get out at all for a whole week. What are you up to today?"

"Nothing," I told him. "I was actually just thinking about how I have nothing to do today… Your timing is impeccable."

"I've been told that quite a few times, actually," Mark said, laughing. "Well, I was going to tell you to drop by later tonight if you weren't busy, but since you're completely free, do you think you'd want to come to the rink, watch practice, and then go out for something to eat with me and the guys?"

Wondering to myself if I had enough gas to get to the rink where they practiced and back, I said, "That sounds like a plan to me. When's the practice?"

"In about an hour," he said. "You know what might be kind of a good idea… Bring your brother. I think he might enjoy coming and watching us, don't you?"

I was slightly put off, as juvenile as it sounds. I had thought for a second that Mark had been asking me out on a date… even though we'd be around the rest of his team. Somehow factoring Wade into the equation made it less of a "date". I was confusing myself. "That's a good idea," I replied. "I'll give him a call and then head over to the rink, alright?"

"Sounds good," Mark said, sounding pleased. "Also, I kind of wanted to talk to you about some stuff."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. The other night… It seemed like it was kind of important, you know? I mean, it felt important to me; I don't know what it felt like to you, but…" He let his sentence trail off.

I smiled to myself. "Yeah, I thought so too," I said. "I feel like I sort of get where you stand on some things now…" I started to feel unsure of myself as I spoke. "I mean, I think I know where you stand. Do I?"

"I don't know. I was feeling like I knew where you stood until I realized that I probably don't."

I laughed. "It's really good that we both understand each other so well. Otherwise we'd be completely out of the loop."

Mark chuckled. "Well, sorry. I just felt like I wasn't as great as I was feeling when I left your place that night."

"No, you were. I mean, you are."

"_Ask her what she's wearing!" _A voice was shouting on Mark's end of the line. There was a _thud_ and I could hear someone laughing.

"Sorry," Mark grunted, sounding aggravated. "This isn't a really great time to be talking on the phone; I have a few guys over."

"It's okay," I said, honestly feeling a little bit relieved to be out of that situation. I had no idea what I was talking about. "We'll talk about… everything later, alright?"

"That sounds like a much better idea," Mark replied, sounding a little bit angry now. "Look, I'll see you and Wade at the rink, okay? I'll talk to you later."

"Alright," I said, and hung up. I dialed my home phone number, and prayed that Wade would answer. Fortunately, the universe seemed to be feeling friendly on that particular day, because it actually was Wade that picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Wade. What would you say if I told you that I'd be able to get you into an Olympic hockey team practice?"

"I'd tell you that it's really weird that you called just now, because I was just about to call you. And I'd also say that this is going to be a very good day."

I was very confused. "Why were you just about to call?"

Wade heaved a sigh. "Well, this might sound weird, but I really need to borrow your car."

"You're right. That sounds really weird. What do you need to borrow it for?"

"I'm going on a… road trip. And it's going to be really hard for you to get out of it, because Mom and Dad already told me that I could take it, since they bought it for you."

I frowned. "Wow, what? What if I need it?"

"They told me that if you let me take it, they'll keep paying your rent for another two months."

My parents were apparently master negotiators. "Done," I said, feeling pretty disgusted with myself.

"How's the job search coming, by the way? Mom told me that she's decided to cut the cord."

"Wade, I think I might just change my mind about letting you come with me today," I told him seriously.

He laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Why are we going to watch the practice?"

"Mark invited me to come watch and he said it might be a good idea to bring you along. He doesn't know you well enough yet."

Wade snorted. "You're just jealous because he likes me better than you."

"Yeah, I'm sure he does. Look, I'll be by to pick you up in about twenty minutes, okay? And be ready or I'll leave your ass behind, got it?"

"Fine, fine," he said, laughing, and hung up.


	13. Chapter 13

**Aaah! It's been a ridiculously long time since I've updated! I'm really sorry, to anyone who was actually into reading the story... I've had a lot of stuff going on: graduations, exams, _swine flu_ (allegedly). It's been rough. But, you didn't click the link to read my ramblings about how stupidly busy I've been. Hopefully you came to read the story. This is another short one, so the next one isn't extremely long. I had it attached to a partially finished Chapter 14 earlier, and it was over 3,000 words. I'll probably chop 14 up too. Anyway. **

**LTJM - Thanks for the review! Glad you're enjoying it!**

**turntostone - Yeeah, not being able get anything written out is horrible, to say the least. Thanks for the review, as always! Hope you enjoy the next few chapters!**

**Paige - Yaaay, new reviewer! I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I hope my long absence didn't turn you off of the story! :) **

I pulled up beside my house and honked the horn, a little longer than I had intended to. Wade came running out of the house right away, shouting something over his shoulder back into the house.

He got into the car, giving me a grin. "Mom said to say hello."

"Really? Just hello? She doesn't hate me?"

Wade shook his head as I started to drive down the street. "No, I don't think so. You know, she didn't say anything, but you know her. Why would she hate you?"

I shrugged. "I didn't get into Journalism."

"Nah. She can't hate you for that. Well, she can try. But she won't be able to stay mad for long. I mean, everyone fails something in their lives, don't they? They just got used to you being amazing in everything."

"It was nice being amazing at everything," I said, sighing heavily.

Wade shook his head. "Wow. I've been in the car with you for fifteen seconds and I'm already completely depressed. You have a talent, Victoria."

I nodded. "I know. It's incredible, isn't it?"

"You should probably tone it down or you'll suck all the team spirit out of these hockey players." Wade grinned at me and leaned back in the seat. "It was actually pretty nice of Mark to invite me along, don't you think?"

I nodded. "Sure. Be sure to watch them all really carefully; you might learn a few things."

He shook his head at me disgustedly. "You're in a terrible mood."

If there was one thing that I hated more than anything, it was someone telling me that I was in a bad mood. Especially if I actually was in a good mood. I made a huffing noise and didn't say anything for a few minutes while Wade stared at the road ahead, grinning.

"What do you need my car for?" I asked him after the silence had stretched for about five minutes.

Wade paused, apparently thinking. "I'm going on a road trip," he said. "I told you."

I shook my head. "That's not enough. Where are you going?"

He shrugged. "I'm just going to visit someone."

"Is it a girl?" I probed.

He shot me an irritated look before nodding. I crowed at him, thumping the wheel and accidentally honking the horn. "Grow up," Wade muttered.

"Come on," I said, gently hitting his shoulder. "Are _you_ in a bad mood now? Who is she?"

Wade sighed heavily. "She was staying here with her grandparents for two weeks at the start of the summer, and since she left, we've been talking on the phone a lot, so I decided to go out and see her for a day."

I grinned at him. "That's so adorable I think I might just cry."

We pulled up to the rink and went inside, just as the practice was starting. The players were skating slow laps around the ice surface.

Wade and sat down in seats near the top and I tried to figure out which one Mark was. Finally, I sheepishly dug my elbow into Wade's side.

"What?"

I squinted at the ice. "Would you make fun of me if I told you that I didn't know who Mark is out there?"

Wade grinned at me. "I would. You can't see his face?"

"Not really, actually. They keep moving around. That makes it a lot worse, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "It does. Especially since I know exactly which one he is, and I've only met him once."

"Just point him out to me," I grumbled.

Wade grinned and pointed to a player who was so obviously Mark that I felt stupid for not seeing him before. "You're a terrible fan," he added.

Based on the noises of disbelief that Wade made during the practice and the exasperated look on Mark's face when I was able to see him, I figured out that the practice was excessively hard. Watching the boys all skate back and forth on the lines made my legs sore. I started to understand what Mark had been talking about when he had said that the practices were terrible, and I felt bad for them.

The coach, who I found out was named Herb Brooks, appeared to be a real hard-ass. He yelled, made faces of anger and disappointment, and slammed his stick on the ice. It was probably because of this that the boys never did anything wrong more than twice, as far as I saw.

"Scary," I muttered under my breath as Brooks roared something almost incoherently at a player who I had guessed was Mike Eruzione. Mike skated away, looking downtrodden.

"He's like a visionary or something," Wade told me matter-of-factly. "He knows exactly how he wants the players to do things. He probably just gets angry because they don't see it like him."

I shrugged. "Either that or a he's a major kook. I'd be crying and quitting right about now."

Wade grinned. "Keep in mind that they've been practicing like this for a while now. My guess is that you'd have quit about two weeks ago."

I scowled at him. "You're in a lot better mood now that it's you making fun of _me_ again, you little menace."

"That's because that's the way it should be."

We continued to watch the practice, and every so often, I had to ask Wade to explain the importance of some drill that the boys were doing out on the ice, because Herb Brooks was making them twist and weave around each other so much that it was making me a little dizzy, and it looked like some of the boys were having trouble keeping up as well.

I watched Mark for some time, noticing that most of the time he caught on to what was going on a little bit quicker than some of the other players, and he stuck out a bit—not that it meant anything that he stuck out to me; I was no scout. It just seemed like he did something a little different than the rest of them. I ran this theory past Wade.

He looked at me incredulously for a second, and then exhaled heavily and turned his attention back to the ice without saying anything.

"What?"

Wade turned his face back to me. "How much do you know about Mark Johnson?"

I shrugged. "Just that he plays hockey at the University of Wisconsin, and apparently he's a superstar, and that makes sense, since he's on the national team, doesn't it?"

"Superstar isn't really a term that people throw around loosely when it comes to hockey—unless they're being sarcastic or something, I guess—and people say it about Mark Johnson _a lot_. He's one of the players on this team that already have signed NHL contracts. I've heard people say that he might be the best player in college hockey."

I frowned at him. "Shut up," I said. "The best? How could anyone even know that?"

Wade shrugged. "That's just what people say. I've actually never seen him play before right now, and I think he sticks out quite a bit compared to the rest of these guys, and they're all really good, too."

Realizing something, I screwed up my mouth. "Signed NHL contract? You mean, he'll be going to the NHL…"

"Next year, or even sooner," Wade finished for me. "I think he signed with… Pittsburgh? Yeah, I think that sounds about right."

I chewed my thumb nail. "Pittsburgh," I said. "Jesus. That's even further away than Madison.

Wade frowned at me. "What, you didn't think you two would have… a serious relationship, did you?"

"I don't know what I thought," I said slowly. "I figured he'd be there, in Madison, and we'd just… make it, work, I guess."

He shrugged. "Well, you should probably ask him about it. I mean, how do you know that he didn't just want a… fling?"

I glanced over at Wade. "I think I need to talk to Terry or something about these kinds of things."

Wade looked offended. "Why? Who says that I couldn't help?"

I looked down at the ice, where the players were making their way into the dressing room. "Well, I don't mean to be rude, Wade, but the girl talk with my younger brother? It's not ideal," I told him, getting to my feet. "Come on."


	14. Chapter 14

**Okay, so here's the next update. I'm sorry if this seems to be really chopped up, but I know for a fact that I wouldn't like to read an update as long as this one would be if all these chapters were together. My eyeballs would be melting and sliding out of my head, to throw in some terrible imagery. Anyway. There might be a bit of a wait between the next few updates, so I apologize in advance for it. Also, I have a new username, if you hadn't noticed... I hope it doesn't cause any confusion. **

**dazedandconfused91 - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and I hope you like this next update!**

**LTJM - Thanks for reviewing! I hope you enjoy reading the next update!**

**Kristina39 - Thank you so much for reviewing! I'm so happy you like the way the story is written, and I hope you continue to tell me what you think of it! Enjoy this next update!**

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Wade followed me out into the lobby of the rink, where we waited for Mark and the rest of the boys to come out. There was another girl in the lobby, standing around and reading the posters on the walls. I supposed that she was the girlfriend of one of the players, and sure enough, a player that I hadn't met came out and started talking to her.

"Hey," a voice said behind me, and I turned, grinning at the sight of Mark, who was smiling back in a tired sort of way. "I hope you guys weren't waiting around for too long."

"No, not too long," I told him, feeling a little awkward. Was I supposed to hug him? Kiss him? In front of Wade? I moved forward, deciding on the hug, and changed my mind half-way, choosing instead to pat Mark on the shoulder. I leaned back, mortified, and Wade stifled a laugh beside me. "Who is that?" I asked hurriedly, nodding my head in the direction of the girl and the player that I didn't know, who were now speaking seriously to each other.

Mark glanced over at them discreetly. "That'd be Les Auge and his fiancée," he told me. "Word is that Herb is due to send him home pretty soon. I guess he has heart problems of some kind."

"Look at you three, standing in a circle and whispering like a bunch of old ladies!" I looked up at the sound of the voice and saw Bah striding towards us. He threw an arm around Wade's shoulders, grinning at him. "How's it going, little buddy?"

Wade grinned back at him. "It's going," he told him. "It looked like you were having some trouble keeping up out there."

Bah's grin slumped for half a second before he hitched it back up. "I'd thank you to not insult me, Mr. Sommers. As far as I know, I was keeping up with these fellas pretty good. Wasn't I, Johnson?"

"I wouldn't know," Mark said, puffing his chest out in a way that made it obvious that he was just joking. "I was too far ahead of you most of the time. You'll have to ask one of the goalies or something."

Wade and I laughed as Bah aimed a soft punch at Mark, which he dodged, grinning. "I'm starving," Bah said, straightening up. "I wish these other guys would hurry up."

Mark shrugged. "I tried to remind them that we had to be earlier tonight, since we can't go to a bar on account of the youngling here." He gestured at Wade, who scowled. Mark grinned at him, and then turned back to Bah. "Run down there and tell them to hurry up if they want to come with us."

"You got it," Bah replied, turning and hurrying in the direction of the dressing room.

We stood around, not saying anything for a few minutes before Bah came back up the stairs, followed by Mike Eruzione, Steve Janaszak, Phil Verchota, Buzz Schneider, and two other guys I hadn't met yet.

"Vic, Wade, these are the other two goalies on our team, Jimmy Craig and Bruce Horsch. Jimmy, Bruce, this is Vic Sommers, the love of Johnson's life, and her younger brother, Wade," Bah said airily, gesturing around grandly with his hands. Mark elbowed Bah in the side, giving him an irritated look.

Bruce stepped forward to shake my hand, beaming. "Nice to meet you," he said. "I've heard a lot about you from Johnson already. It's kind of like I already know you." Mark made a disgusted noise behind him, and Bruce glanced back at him quickly before turning to me again. "What I mean to say, is that I've never heard of you, and even if I did, I'd probably forget because no one ever talks about you."

I laughed, allowing Bruce to pump my hand up and down briefly. Jimmy Craig didn't shake my hand. He didn't even look at me. I tried to decide whether or not he was snotty, or just shy. He seemed like a sharp contrast from the friendly nature of all the other boys I'd met so far.

Buzz cleared his throat loudly. "I might be mistaken, but I think someone here promised that we were going out to get something to eat," he said, giving Bah a highly significant look.

"Well, yeah, we are," Bah replied. "I thought it would be _polite_ to introduce our guests to the people they didn't know, not that you know anything about manners, Schneider."

Buzz huffed loudly.

Mark laughed. "They're like babies. They get cranky when they're hungry," he told me, standing between the two boys, who were suddenly grinning at each other in an uncomfortable sort of way. "We actually should go, though," Mark continued. "I can only control them to a certain extent."

I drove behind Bah's car to a small restaurant called Athena's, which was apparently Greek, judging by the name.

When we got inside, the little waitress looked so overwhelmed by the sight of the ten of us that she dropped a pitcher of water on the carpet, much to the dismay of the bad-tempered looking manager, who seated us at a long table and threw menus unceremoniously on the table.

"Hey, wait—there are only six menus here," Mike Eruzione protested, waving his arm and trying to attract the attention of the manager, who was now berating the nervous waitress. The manager waved a hand at Mike impatiently.

"I'll be with you in a minute!" he snapped at him.

"Man, can you believe that?" Mike first handed menus to Wade and I, took one for himself and then set the rest of them in the middle of the table for the boys to fight over. "I've actually heard good things about this place, and the minute we get in here, the bullshit starts."

"Yeah, we sure won't be back here," Phil put in, sitting back in his seat with the menu that he had just grabbed. "Put this place on that list of all the restaurants that you won't let us go into anymore, Rizzo."

Mike frowned. "There isn't a list. There _are _standards, though," he began, faltering as the boys sitting around the table groaned loudly. "Fine. _Fine._ You know what? I won't tell you guys anymore if a restaurant is bad. Then we'll see."

"I'd like to see what we'd see," Steve Janaszak muttered, studying his menu closely.

Mark leaned back in his chair, having not been quick enough to get a menu. "Here, use mine," I told him, handing him the menu. "I can share with Wade."

"Why wouldn't you share with Johnson?" Bah asked loudly. "He's sitting beside you, too. It would work just as good."

Mark shot Bah a hard look. "You don't have to," he said to me.

"It's not a big deal," I replied, grinning. "Besides, it's actually _my_ menu, isn't it?"

"She's smart, this girl," Phil commented over the top of his menu. "Hang onto her, Johnson."

I smiled and leaned over the arm of my chair to see the list of food.

"What looks good?" Mark asked absent-mindedly, and I wondered if he was talking to me or to himself, so I didn't answer him. He looked up at me expectantly. "Hmm?"

I blinked. "Oh. Well…" I leaned closer. "I'm not really all that hungry, so I might just go with a large Greek salad. What about you?"

Mark bounced the menu on the top of the table. "Pasta, probably. Or… ribs. Yeah, I think I'll have ribs."

I turned to Wade. "How about you, Wade?"

Wade chewed the inside of his cheek. "Are you paying?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

He shut his menu with a snap and set it down on the table. "I'll have ribs too, then."

Fifteen minutes passed, and the manager still hadn't returned to take our orders. Mike seemed a little more than irritated. He kept grumbling under his breath, and Buzz, who was sitting next to him, kept grinning.

"What are you going to do, man? Not leave the guy a tip? He's an ass. That's all there is to it."

"I wish it wasn't," Mike shot back. "If I was a waiter, I'd respect the customer. What makes it worse is that this guy is the manager."

"Well, that's probably why you're not a waiter. Everyone thinks they're better at a job when they're not the ones doing it," Bruce said.

"Hey, Bruce, is that why I feel like I could do a better job between the pipes than you?" Bah said, elbowing Bruce in the side and laughing. Bruce shot Bah a withering look and got to his feet, striding in the direction of the bathroom.

Mike shook his head disgustedly, flipping the pages of his menu.

"Come _on_," Bah retorted. "He needs to learn to take things less seriously. It's not like I'm _Herb_ or anything."

I leaned towards Mark. "Did I miss something?" I whispered to him.

Mark shrugged. "There's been some talk that Horsch is going to be the last goalie cut. We only need two of them. Needless to say, he's a little sensitive about it."

Bah snorted. "A little?"

"Drop it," Mike said, throwing Bah an impatient look, just as Bruce emerged from the bathroom and sat back down heavily beside Bah, not saying anything. Two seats over, Jimmy Craig muttered something I couldn't hear under his breath that made Buzz look over at him, frowning.

The manager finally came back to the table, took our orders and then stomped off again, not seeing the irritated stare Mike was giving his retreating back.

"I wish I could report that guy to someone or something. Seriously, what an ass."

Buzz grinned at him, taking a drink of water. "You're telling me that you'd be completely cheerful if your job was _a waiter_?"

Mike shrugged. "He's the manager. It's different. But I'd do a better job than that guy."

Steve leaned over the table to look at Mike. "Okay. Let's see. If I was a customer, and I came in, and told you that the table you sat me at wasn't going to work because it was too close to another table, or too close to a window or something, what would you do?"

"I'd probably move you to another table," Mike said, after thinking about it.

"Well, what if you were taking my order," Phil began, and all heads at the table turned to him. "and I said I wanted a cheeseburger, but with only a half a slice of cheese, and a toasted bun, with three pickles, an onion on the side of the burger where there was no cheese, and a mixture of ranch dressing and ketchup on the _bottom_ of the burger, with salt and pepper only on the side where there _was_ cheese, and mayonnaise on the side?"

"I'd ask you to say that again, and make sure you weren't bull-shitting me," Mike replied, laughing.

"But then," Phil continued, "when you bring this ridiculously detailed burger out, I say that you did something wrong. I asked for three pickles, and you only gave me two of them, and you also put salt and pepper on the wrong side. I'm seriously angry about this, and I want to speak to your manager about how the waiters at the restaurant need to get lessons on how to listen to orders properly. What would you do then, Rizzo?"

Mike frowned. "I'd probably dump your water on your head. But that's different. This guy is just rude."

At that moment, the manager came up behind Mike and dropped his steak in front of him with a clatter. Mike grimaced sheepishly at us.

"Do you think he spit in it?"

"Without a doubt," Mark replied, and everyone laughed.

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**Okay, so tell me what you thought of it! Sorry again for the odd cut-off points... They could really be a lot worse than the way they are right now! xD **


	15. Chapter 15

**Ahem. So, it's been a month. I wholeheartedly apologize for ditching for such a long time. Anyway, I hope you like this next update! If you don't remember what happened in the last chapter, and believe me, I wouldn't either, feel free to check back. **

**LTJM - Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it! **

**Peachy65 - xD I agree. I hate bad service in restaurant. It drives me NUTS! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

**Mandamirra10 - Thank you so much for reading! I hope you didn't have to wait too long for me to update, like the rest of the people that read! I hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

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Once the boys actually got their food and Mike had examined his steak to his satisfaction, they all quieted down. Watching them all eat was almost astonishing. It was like they hadn't eaten a single thing for a few full days. They didn't just eat their food, they attacked it. I almost felt bad for the food. I had to tear my eyes away from the sight of them to start eating my own food before I got left behind.

Once everyone had finished eating, I paid for Wade's meal and my own and waited outside by my car for the rest of the boys to come out. Wade was looking from the door of the restaurant to me and back again excitedly.

I looked over at him, confused. "What?"

"Are you going to talk to Mark now? Because I didn't want to have put a bunch of ideas in your head before when we were watching the practice."

I frowned. "What kinds of ideas?"

Wade shrugged. "I mean, all that stuff about relationships with him. I realize that you don't want to talk about that kind of stuff with your kid brother, but…" He let his sentence trail off, as if the end of it should have been obvious. It wasn't.

"But what?" I asked. "What do you think I'm going to talk to him about?"

Wade glanced in the direction of the door of the restaurant before responding. "Well, if he goes to Pittsburgh and you two are still together, you don't think that you'd… go with him, do you?"

I chewed my lip. "Seriously? I think it's too late to have put any actual thought into that, Wade. I mean, a lot can happen that amount of time. I'm not even _dating_ him. We might not even get together."

He opened his mouth to reply, but the door of the restaurant swung open and the boys filed out. Mark walked out and gave me a meaningful look. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," I said, following him behind my car. "Did you want to maybe get inside? I mean, if you wanted to talk in private or something…"

Mark shook his head, glancing over my shoulder at the rest of the boys, who had surrounded Wade and were talking to him. "I think we're good privacy-wise. I just wanted to tell you a few things before I went to Europe."

"Oh?" I said, slightly curious. "What's that?" I thought for a second, and then added, "You mean I won't see you again until you get back?"

He shrugged. "It's not that I don't want to see you. I just think that since the reason why I came here in the first place was to play hockey, I should probably focus on it. I mean, you're a great thing to be distracted by, don't get me wrong," he paused, grinning at me. "I just think that for now, I should be playing hockey. I'll give you a call when I get home, alright?"

"You'd better," I said, smiling back at him. "I'm starting to get the feeling that you might have gotten some kind of disease from the food I cooked the other night, and that's what made you say all the things you did."

Mark laughed. "I promise that the food you made wasn't nearly as bad as you thought it was." He reached down and grabbed my hands in his. "And I promise that I meant everything I said. I really want to give this a try. If I wasn't so preoccupied with hockey, I'd be able to give you the attention you deserve, but for now you'll have to settle for the preview version of Mark Johnson."

"That sounds promising," I said, laughing. "Fortunately for you, I have more than enough time on my hands."

"Well, good. Maybe you could come out and see another practice or two before we leave."

"I'll try," I said, surprising myself by stepping forward and hugging Mark. "And if I don't, I'll miss you when you're gone. Even though I never see you."

Mark laughed again, putting his arms around me. "I'll miss you, too. Maybe I'll bring you a nice European souvenir back."

I opened my mouth to say something, but then over Mark's shoulder I saw someone familiar getting out of a car. "Oh, Jesus," I said, grabbing Mark's arm and pulling him behind my car.

"What is it?"

I didn't want to tell Mark that I had just seen Lance Perry getting out of his car so I waved my hand around sporadically, as if I was attacking something. "There was a bee," I said vaguely. "It was right by your ear, and…"

"Victoria?"

I spun around, looking Perry in the face. "Hey," I said in a nonchalant voice. "What are you doing here?"

Perry looked a little put off. "I work here," he said, gesturing at Athena's with his thumb. "I'm a waiter. What are _you_ doing here?"

Of all the restaurants in Minneapolis, naturally Perry had to be working at the one where I was. I shrugged. "I was here eating with my… friends and my brother," I said, and immediately regretted it. Mark stiffened beside me and leaned against the car.

Perry's eyes flicked up into Mark's face before he gazed back down at me, grinning. "Is that so? Were you guys just leaving?"

I nodded. "Yeah, actually. We just finished."

"Is Andre working in there right now?" Perry asked, fiddling with his watch. "Did the big guy, the manager serve you?"

"Yeah, he did," I replied.

He grinned. "The guy's an ass, right? Anyway, I should probably be going. I don't want to be late. Just out of curiosity, why haven't you given me a call yet?" The grin on Perry's face grew wider, and I wanted to smack him. It was obvious that he knew that it was Mark standing beside me, and he was antagonizing me.

"I haven't had a reason to want to yet," I told him icily, but Perry continued to grin at me.

"Well, remember what I told you. You can call… anytime." Before I could stop him, Perry had stepped forward and wrapped me up in a bear hug, lifting me off the ground and twirling me in a circle.

As I was whipped around, I noticed that we had caught the attention of the rest of the boys and Wade, who were looking on quizzically.

"That's him, right?" Perry whispered in my ear as he set me back down on the ground. "That's the hockey player." I nodded, and he glanced up at Mark before saying, "Seems like an alright guy. I would have hit me by now." With that, he turned and strolled idly in to the restaurant, seemingly unaware of all the boys watching him. I sighed as I watched him go, feeling like a big idiot.

Immediately after Perry left, I grabbed Wade and took him home. He peppered me with questions for the entire drive.

"Who was that guy?"

"It was my friend, Perry."

"Perry who?"

"His last name is Perry. His first name is Lance."

"Oh. How do you know him?"

"I hardly do. I met him at a party that Terry and I went to a while ago."

"Why was he all over you?"

I sighed. "Wade, he wasn't _all over me._ That's just his personality. He's a little… out there."

"I think you offended Mark. You were having your big dramatic goodbye with him and then this other guy shows up, and you basically throw him into the gutter. Did you notice that you did that?"

"Did _you_ notice that I tried to hide behind the car before, when I first saw him? You only see the things that make me look like a bad person," I told him, slowing to a stop beside the house.

Wade shrugged, grinning at me. "That's because you _are_ a bad person." He quickly got out of the car, moving out of my reach and slammed the door, turning and walking into the house as I drove off, fuming.


	16. Chapter 16

**Okay. Chase me out of town with pitchforks and torches, everyone. It's been roughly another month. Or more. I can't really recall right now. There have been like, two stories posted with about ten chapters posted in the time that it's taken me to put up this one chapter. And I whole-heartedly apologize for that. You can check out the last chapter to find out what happened last, seeing as it's probably slipped your minds. Anyway. **

**Peachy65 - Thanks for the review! I'm glad you can relate to the way Wade and Vic are; I can too, absolutely. Me and my brother are the exact same way! xD I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**LTJM - Thanks for the review! Glad you enjoyed it! **

**Mandamirra10 - Thanks for the review! I'm happy that you think it's realistic, and that I (try to) keep my facts straight. Enjoy this next update! :)  
**

That night, I was awoken by my telephone ringing. I groaned and rolled over, staring at the clock. Four twenty-six AM. I reached out for the phone and pulled it into bed with me, holding it to my ear. "Hello?" I croaked.

"Hey, Vic."

I sat up straight in my bed. It was Mark. "Hey," I said, glancing over at the clock again, confirming that it was indeed what time it was. "What's the matter?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," Mark said absent-mindedly. "I was just awake, thinking about some things."

I flopped down onto my back, feeling less nervous knowing that nothing was seriously wrong. "What kinds of things?"

"That guy in the parking lot today," Mark began, and I groaned inwardly. "The one who you were talking to... Who was he?"

"That was... my friend, Lance Perry," I explained. "I wouldn't even call him my friend. That's the second time I've ever seen him. I met him at a party that Terry and I went to a while ago."

Mark hummed. "I don't want to seem like _that guy_, and I know you know what I mean, but he seemed to really like you."

I stared at the ceiling, hardly believing that this was happening at all. Mark was, as far as I knew, really laid back. But then again, realistically I'd only known him for about a month. "That's just the way Perry is," I tried to explain. "I hardly even know him and I think he was trying to get a rise out of... me," I told him, having teetered on the edge of saying "you", but I thought having to explain _that _to Mark would have been an hour long job.

"Oh." Mark was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. "Can I apologize?"

"For what?" I asked amusedly.

"For... this. I'm normally not like this. Actually, I'm _never_ like this. It was just... You know, I thought that guy was maybe working on asking you out or something, and it made me a little bit crazy."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I laughed, and Mark chuckled.

"I should let you go to sleep," Mark told me. "I'm really sorry for waking you up. I'll talk to you later, okay?" He sounded like he actually felt pretty bad about overreacting.

"Not too much later, I hope," I said, laughing again. "Goodnight, Mark."

I hung up the phone and lay there in bed for a moment or two before jumping to my feet and striding into the kitchen. I snatched the phone number that Perry had given me off of the wall, ripping what I assumed was a five in half. I grabbed the phone and stretched the cord until I was sitting on top of the counter beside my sink, playing with the taps and turning the water on and off while the phone rang.

It rang about ten times. I guessed it would, seeing as it was almost five in the morning. When someone finally picked up, whoever it was sounded irritated.

"Yeah?"

"Can I talk to Perry, please?" I asked timidly, my brave mood fading when I realized it wasn't Perry.

"You've got him."

"Oh, I mean, Lance. Lance Perry."

"He's probably asleep. Should I wake him up?"

Deciding that it would be ridiculous to _not_ talk to Perry after waking poor Alan (I assumed that it was Alan) up at five in the morning, I said, "Sure," and Alan put the phone down and I heard him walking away.

A moment later, I heard voices approaching the phone.

"... is it?" Perry was saying.

"I don't know, some broad," Alan told him. "Don't stay on the phone long, got it?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Perry picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Perry. Hi," I said, and I heard him breathe out sharply.

"Victoria? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," I replied.

"Nothing's... wrong?"

"Not... really," I admitted.

Perry was silent for a second. "I think I might just be over-tired," he said slowly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think—I _think_, that you're saying that you're calling at nearly five in the morning... for no reason in particular. I mean, I told you to call, but..."

I leaned back against the cupboards. "Not for '_no reason in particular'_. I guess there is a reason."

"I don't want to seem rude. Really, I don't. But _get to it._" Perry huffed into the phone.

I laughed, and then remembered how angry I was a moment ago and why. "Mark just called you. I mean, me."

"Wow," Perry said, and he was quiet for a second, so I guessed he was yawning. "I think you need to go to bed."

"No no," I said, shaking my head. "He just called me, and apparently he had a problem with the crazy guy who I was talking to in the parking lot of the restaurant today."

"Is that so? And who was that?"

"Shut up. It was you. He thought that you and I had... something."

Perry laughed. "Are you breaking up with me?"

I groaned. "Oh, my God. You're so ridiculous."

He continued to laugh. "I'm trying to make you realize how ridiculous _you're_ being. I mean, you're calling me at five in the morning, to tell me that your boy has a problem with me. What exactly do you want me to do about it? I don't even know the guy. It might be the fact that I'm sleep-deprived, but I find this hysterical right now."

When I started to think about it, it _was_ ridiculous.

"You're seeing it now, aren't you?" Perry said in his stupid annoying way. "What did you want to do, start a fight? Come on. I think it's obvious who would win that fight. Can I please go to bed?"

"Yes," I said. And then, because I was interested: "Who do you think would win?"

Perry was silent for a second, apparently thinking. "Win what?" he asked, sounding bewildered.

"The fight."

He laughed. "Oh. _The fight._ Well, if it was a fist fight, I'm guessing it would probably go to Johnson. But in a fight for you? Well...."

"You, right?" I chuckled.

"Hey, you don't think so right now, but in a while, trust me. You'll definitely agree that I'm a better choice."

"Perry," I said slowly, "Have you ever considered that some of the things you say are... too forward? I mean, you don't even know me."

"I can say I've never considered it," Perry replied thoughtfully. "But you're loving it, though, right? It's my fool-proof way to win girls over. I call it 'My Method'. And it's never failed me."

I laughed loudly. "That's probably one of the most ridiculous things I've ever heard."

"You say that now. Look, I hate to break up this nice little phone chat, but it's kind of late. Is it okay if I just go to bed?"

"Yeah," I said. "Sorry for waking you up, I guess."

"You guess? Well, that sounds sincere."

I huffed. "I'm really sorry for waking you up, Perry. You need your beauty sleep, obviously."

"No problem," Perry said good-naturedly. "I was up. You know. Trimming my toenails."

"Great," I said. "Wonderful. Goodnight, Perry."

Perry laughed. "Goodnight."

**Thanks for reading! Please review! :) **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hey! Okay, see? Even _I_ thought that I'd disappear for another month. Unfortunately, this update is stupidly short. I'd be disappointed. But. You probably shouldn't be. I'm shortening this one, so the next one isn't about 3,000 words. Because it might have ended up being that way. **

**On a sort of related note, I want to take this opportunity to wish Mark Johnson a very happy (belated) birthday. Mark turned fifty-two on September 22nd (incidentally, I turned 17 that day! -balloons/streamers-). ****I was going to put this on my last update, seeing as it was on the 23rd, but I may or may have forgotten about it. I thought it'd be appropriate to wish him all the best in the next year on here instead of... y'know, calling his house, not that I would. Because that'd be creepy._But writing a fan fiction featuring him at age twenty would definitely not be. _Remember that, folks. **

** Anyway. xD_  
_**

**Peachy65 - Thanks for reading/reviewing! xD Yeah, I know, I would have been doing cartwheels to be getting phone calls like that at any point in the day! I hope you enjoy the next update!**

**LTJM - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you thought it was funny, and I hope you enjoy these next updates! :) **

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The next few weeks or so passed by at an almost painfully slow pace. I didn't get out to see another one of Mark's practices before he left to Europe, because I couldn't afford to put more gas in my car. The bad sister in me didn't want to put any more gas in it so when Wade decided to go on his little adventure, he'd have to pay the ridiculously high cost of filling it up. The weekend that Wade was supposed to go came, and he took my car and apparently filled it without complaint. He returned with the tank completely full again, which I thought was pretty impressive. Wade also wouldn't tell me anything about what had happened on his little trip, so I assumed that he must have had a good time.

On September 19th, a week after I knew Mark had gotten back from Europe (not that I was paying close attention), the phone rang. It wasn't Mark, like I had been hoping. It was Bah.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Vic? That you?"

I frowned. "Yeah. Who is this?" I knew that it was someone from the hockey team, because no one else called me that.

"Bah Harrington here," he said in a business-like tone. "I was just wondering what you were doing tonight."

"I don't think I have anything planned," I told him slowly. "Why?"

"Well, I felt obligated to give you a call tonight because you haven't seen Mark for almost three weeks, and he was being too much of a pansy to phone you."

In the background, I suddenly heard, "You asshole! You actually _called_ her? I told you I'd do it later!" And Bah was laughing hysterically, but I was still able to hear the sound of someone stomping around.

"Did he know that you were calling me?" I asked, feeling a little bit sorry for Mark.

Bah continued to laugh. "No. Well, yeah. I mean, he told me that he'd call you at four, but guess what? It's five thirty."The phone was apparently moved away from his face for a moment as he yelled, "It's _five thirty, _Johnson!" Bah started speaking into the mouthpiece again.

I laughed. "How very ninth grade of you, Bah."

"Thanks. Just so you know, there _is_ a reason that I called, apart from bugging Johnson. Do you remember that time a long time ago when we were sitting watching your brother play and we talked about you and Johnson going on a skating date?"

I chewed my lip, trying to remember. "Is it terrible that I don't remember that?"

"Just slightly. Anyway, we were talking, and we decided that there was no time like the present to have to two go and do that. Have the skating date, I mean."

"I thought you guys were doing intense hockey stuff now." I didn't mean to sound like a bitch. I just felt like being able to see Mark again so soon would be too good to be true.

"We are. I just think it's unreasonable to think that Johnson can't find time out of his busy schedule for the lucky lady in his life. Don't you agree?" Bah was breathing oddly, and I heard quick footsteps, before a door was slammed shut and Bah said, "HAH!" loudly.

I nodded, wondering what exactly was happening over there. "I definitely agree. What was the big plan?"

Bah was silent for a second. "Were you not listening before? You're going on a skating date with Johnson tonight. Do you own a pair of skates?"

"Hmm. I don't think so," I told him. "I might have thrown them away when I moved out, and I can guarantee that Wade won't let me borrow..."

He cut me off. "It's not a problem. We're going to find the smallest skates we can. I think Strobel has about a size six in womens' sizes. The man has the tiniest feet I've ever seen."

"Is there a difference? I didn't know there were womens' sizes in skates."

"There isn't," Bah said, laughing. "I was just trying to make it easier for you." There was a bang, and Bah grunted. "Look, I have to go, alright? Johnson is going to pick you up at nine. I'll talk to you another time, Vic. Bye!" He hung up abruptly.

I set the phone back down, thinking that I needed to remember how to skate. The last time I had gone with Wade, I'd hurt myself and I had vowed to never do that to myself again. This time, there was something at stake in my mind. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of Mark. Ice was his _domain_. If I showed up there and made myself look like an idiot, without a doubt he'd move on to someone else, someone else who _could_ skate. In my mind, the future of my potential relationship with Mark Johnson depended on this evening.

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**It's short, and I think I said that up top! Thanks for reading, and review, as always! :) **


	18. Chapter 18

**Mmmmkay. I've been having some minor computer problems as of late, so I thought I'd post this before they got any worse than they already are. Chances are I won't have any huge terrible problems and I'm just being dramatic, but just bear with me and assume that my computer is in serious critical condition to make this seem like much more serious business. xD Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to any fellow Canadians that read my story! :) **

**Peachy65 - Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm glad you thought it was funny, and I really hope you like the next few updates!**

**LTJM - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you thought it was funny, and I hope you like reading about the skating date!**

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By the time Mark came to pick me up at nine, I had myself so psyched up for the night that I was almost bouncing off of the walls. In the end, I made myself stand outside and wait for him. I watched the headlights of his car get closer, bouncing on my heels and clenching my hands. I was starting to think that I had a problem with nerves that I hadn't noticed before.

Mark rolled down the window as he slowed to a stop beside me. "Hi," he said, sounding a little uneasy. "I wasn't sure if you'd be here or not."

I gave a stupid, high-pitched laugh. "Why's that?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I don't really know. Maybe you would have thought that Bah was just joking around by calling you?" Mark looked frustrated for a second. "I _was_ actually going to call you, you know..." He gave me a long look from inside the car. "D'you want to get in?"

Standing there watching him talk, I seemed to have forgotten what was going on. "Oh, right," I said, laughing again and making my way around the car to get inside.

Mark drove for a bit, and we sat, mostly in silence. Every so often one of us would make some conversational comment about how nice of a night it was, or how traffic was pretty good. I felt like I was with someone who I'd just met, and that was _stupid_ because I definitely hadn't just met Mark. The comfortability factor with us was off and on, it seemed, and I didn't really know what to think about that.

It took me a second, but I realized that we were headed towards the rink where Mark's team practiced, the Bloomington one. "Wouldn't the rink be closed by now?" I asked, as he turned into the parking lot.

He shrugged. "It is. Suffice it to say that I pulled a few strings with the zamboni driver and now," he said, jingling his keys, "I have myself a set of keys."

I laughed. "Well, my God," I said. "You're must be more resourceful than I thought."

Mark shrugged again, grinning. "I guess so. Come on, let's get inside before someone sees us, huh?"

Mark grabbed a duffel bag from the trunk of his car and I followed him inside the dark, empty rink.

"Should we turn some lights on?" I asked timidly, feeling a little intimidated.

He shook his head. "No, probably not. I mean, what if someone sees them?" He stopped talking, and then started to laugh. "I didn't really think this through, did I?"

Trying to pretend that the thought of skating with no lights on didn't terrify me beyond all belief, I followed Mark out into the skating area. I tried to focus on what was happening when he took my hand and led me down a flight of stairs and over the boards. He handed me a pair of skates and made sure I knew where the bench was so I could sit down.

"Do you... know how to tie skates?" he asked me with laughter in his voice. I was sure that he could see me somehow in the darkness, struggling with the stupid skates which were apparently stuffed with socks or something, but were still far too wide.

I pushed my hair out of my eyes and looked in the general direction of where I thought he'd be. "I used to. Is it embarrassing that I don't?"

Mark laughed. "Not at all." I suddenly felt him down by my feet, feeling around for the laces, and in no time, the skates were tied and ready to go.

"You'll have to be extremely careful," Mark told me. "I don't think you have a lot of ankle support in those. Just... grab my arm, alright?" His arm snaked out and wrapped around my waist tightly.

We glided awkwardly around the ice like that for a while, not saying anything. I felt like it was possible for me to skate on my own, but I didn't want to say anything. Finally, Mark spoke. "You have no idea how nice it is to do things like this."

"Like skate?"

Mark laughed. "Well, yeah. I mean, every single day I have practices and everything. It's just nice to be able to relax and forget about it for a while. You're one of the only things that help me unwind, you know?"

I put my arm around his waist and squeezed. "I really don't know what I'd do if I had to deal with everything that you guys do. I would never have the willpower to be doing what you are."

"I just keep telling myself that this is exactly what I want to be doing. I mean, I can't honestly see myself doing anything else right now. It gets hard, but the way I see it... it'll all seem like it was worth it in the end." He paused, guiding us around a turn, apparently in thought. "At least, I hope so. It would be terrible to go to the Olympics in February and not accomplish anything."

I hadn't thought of that before. I remembered Wade telling my dad a while ago that the American team wasn't all that good, and Mark himself had told me that the team didn't have as many fans as it could. I didn't consider myself to be a real expert or anything on hockey, but I had thought they looked pretty good at the practice I'd watched. "I think you guys should do fine," I said reassuringly. "I mean, how good can those other teams be?"

Mark let out a laugh. "Sometime, when you're over at my place I'll show you some stuff on the Soviets. You'd be surprised as to how good those other teams can be."

I was sure he didn't mean to make me feel stupid, but he did. I was quiet for a minute, and so was Mark. After a while, he said, "I wish you lived in Wisconsin. It's going to be really hard to leave here when I'm done."

He sounded so downtrodden that I decided to try to cheer him up. "Well, once you're done, if you have a weekend off or something, I'll be able to come and visit you, right? I mean, Madison isn't really too far away, is it?"

Mark stared down at me for a second without saying anything. Then he looked up at the glowing clock hanging above us. "God, it's getting late, isn't it? Look, would you be completely upset if we called it quits for tonight? I have to get up early tomorrow for practice."

I started to answer, but before I could Mark jerked my arm (unintentionally, I hoped), in the opposite direction, towards where the bench and our shoes were, and I lost my balance. I felt my foot turn over in my skate and I fell down hard, taking Mark with me.

"Oh, shit," Mark said beside me, his breath visible in the air above us. "I'm really sorry, Vic. Are you okay?"

"I don't mean to be a little priss," I told him, clenching my jaw, "but I think I might have hurt myself a little bit."

"Really?" Mark sat up. "Badly? What happened?"

I twisted my foot around a little in my skate and it throbbed painfully. "I think I might have sprained it or something when we fell."

"Can you stand?"

I propped myself up on my elbows. "I'll try." I heaved myself to my feet. My ankle shook uncontrollably, and I toppled over again, but this time Mark caught me.

"Are you serious?" Mark groaned. "I hurt you. You can't even walk." He shook his head and gently set me back on the ice. "Can you... glide? If I pulled you along?"

Getting the idea, I stood on one foot while Mark pulled me across the ice by my hand. I squeezed my eyes shut as he loosened the skate as much as he could before pulling it off.

Mark examined my ankle, which was already pretty swollen. "So," he said slowly. "There's a hospital about five blocks away from here. We're going, there's no doubt about that, but how we're getting out of this rink is the real mystery here. From where I'm standing, there are two options here. I can carry you and play the hero, or you can be a martyr and hobble out."

I scoffed at him. "I don't need a hospital. I just need to put some ice on it."

"No," Mark said, shaking his head. "We're going to the hospital, seeing as we came in _my_ car. Even if the doctor tells you that you just need to put ice on your ankle, I'll feel better if we go."

"Fine." I told him. "I guess you'll have to carry me, Mark." I held my arms out like a little kid. Mark grinned at me and then bent over, picking me up and holding me over his shoulder.

He carried me out of the rink like that, laughing as we went. He set me down a little bit harder than he expected to beside the car and I wobbled a bit, feeling dizzy from the pain in my throbbing ankle. Without any kind of warning, Mark put his hands on my shoulders and kissed me, pushing me back against the car and causing my head to spin even more.

When he pulled away, Mark was grinning at me. "Sorry," he said. "It just seemed right." He then opened the door for me and helped me inside before getting into the driver's side and starting the car.

The hospital really _wasn't_ all that far away, so we were there in a matter of minutes. Mark carried me piggy-back style through the doors of the emergency room and sat down heavily in a stiff-backed chair beside me. I felt like a big faker. _I _wasn't in the middle of any kind of emergency.

"I'm really sorry about this," he murmured after a while of sitting in silence. "I tried to take you out for a nice evening and look at this—I hurt you."

"It's okay," I whispered. Something about being in hospitals always made me feel the need to whisper. "You could have definitely done worse."

Mark snorted. "Yeah. I could have _stabbed_ you."

I started giggling, and Mark shook beside me, trying to laugh quietly. Before long, we were both bent over in our chairs, laughing loudly. We almost didn't hear the irritated nurse telling us that we could go in. I hopped onto Mark's back again and he carried me down the hallway and into the room that the nurse had indicated.

I gritted my teeth and winced as the doctor poked and prodded at my ankle, and Mark sat in a chair against the wall looking scandalized. After a few minutes, the doctor stood up and left the room, returning with a set of crutches.

"It's just a sprain," he said in a calming voice that made me want to fall asleep. "Keep in mind that it could have been a whole lot worse, but this time it's just a sprain. My advice would be to use these," he shook the crutches, "and put some ice on it tonight and whenever you get the chance to keep the swelling down. You should probably stay off of skates for at least three weeks until it heals up, as terrible as that might be."

I exchanged a glance with Mark, who grinned and stood up. "I'll make sure she does, doc," he said eagerly. "If I have anything to do with it, she'll never be on skates ever again."

The doctor gave us an odd look, pronounced me free to go, and left the room. Mark grinned at me again. "Now, Vic, I know how upset you're going to be, but you really _can't_ go skating again for at least three weeks. We'll have to think of something else to do."

I laughed. "Give me those stupid things," I said, holding my hands out for the crutches.

Mark moved them out of my reach. "Oh, no. You're coming out of here the way you came in, Vic." He stood in front of me, his knees bent slightly. "Hop on or I'll leave you."

We got a few odd looks passing through the waiting room, Mark dangling the crutches on his wrist so they dragged on the floor, and me with my arms wrapped around his shoulders. Everyone in the room jumped when I whacked my foot on the door frame on our way out and howled like a wounded cat.

Despite everything, it was a perfect night. I should have known it was too good to be true.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	19. Chapter 19

**Hey! I've been so motivated with writing this lately that it pretty much pumps me up. I hope the semi-regular updates are good for you, too! :) **

**Peachy65 - Glad to see that you enjoyed the skating date. :) I hope you enjoy the next update!**

**Mandamirra10 - Thanks for reviewing! I guess it just works out that accidents happen when Mark and Vic get together. It's totally not my fault. I swear. xD Enjoy the next update! **

**LTJM - Thanks for reading/reviewing! Glad to see that you liked the chapter, and I hope you like the next update! **

**Alyssa2424 - New reviewer! :) -gives gold star- Thanks for reading my story! I'm so glad to see that you're liking it! FYI, it basically makes my week when a new person reviews my story, as opposed to just making my day when one of my regular reviewers does. :) So thanks for making my week! Enjoy the next update!**

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Mark pulled up to my building, stopped the car, and quickly ran around to open my door and crouch so I could hop on his back.

"You know," I told him as he huffed and puffed while climbing the stairs, "You might just be better than my car. Much cheaper."

Mark laughed, setting me down gently in front of my apartment door. "I'm sure accidents with your car would be much worse than accidents with me, too."

I nodded. "That's true. In the long run, riding you would be a much better idea than riding in my car."

Mark stared at me.

I felt myself turning red. "Oh my _God_," I said, covering my mouth with my hand. "I didn't mean it like... that. Oh my God."

After staring at me for a few more seconds, Mark tilted his head back and laughed loudly. "That may have been the highlight of my night."

I stared down at my shoes. "Well, I'm glad I made your night."

Mark put a finger under my chin and lifted my face up. "Thanks, Vic," he said, and kissed me. I felt dizzy again, and my ankle had nothing to do with it. I leaned into Mark, pushing him up against my door, and put my arms around his neck.

When we pulled apart, both of us were grinning. I felt like I was drunk, and I hadn't drank a drop of alcohol. I found myself saying, "Do you want to come inside?" and actually hoping that Mark would say yes, even though I knew that he had hockey in the morning.

Before Mark could answer, I spotted something taped to the door just below his shoulder. I grabbed it, ripping it in half. "Well, shit." I held the half of the paper that I was holding up to the one taped to the door.

_Your friend was out in the hallway when I came home, _it said_, so I just brought her back to my place. I didn't think you would have wanted her hanging out in the hallway by herself. –Nathan_

"Oh, for God's sake," I said, my mood going from great to awful in no time at all. I grabbed Mark's arm. "Come on. We gotta go get Terry."

"What?" Mark said, holding me back. "Don't walk. Here." He moved in front of me and crouched again for me to jump on.

I rested my chin on Mark's shoulder. "It's just next door. I could have walked."

"No, you can't. What's Terry doing over there?" Mark walked the few steps it took to get to Nathan's apartment and set me down.

I shook my head irately. "Every so often she feels the need to get drunk and make her presence known, so she just stays over at my place. I'd rather she did that than stay at some random guy's house or something."

Mark frowned. "You mean like..." he gestured at Nathan's door.

I shrugged. "I don't really know Nathan that well, but I doubt he'd be the kind of guy that would take advantage of a drunken girl."

Mark grinned thinly. "Well, he _is_ from California."

I tried to grin back at him as I knocked on the door. I heard Nathan saying, "That's probably her. Just hang on a second, okay?" and then approaching footsteps.

The door swung open to reveal a disgruntled-looking Nathan. "Hey, guys," he said, rubbing the top of his head and messing up his blond hair.

"Hey," I said, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm _so_ sorry, Nathan. We'll take her off of your hands right away."

"It's cool," Nathan said, shrugging, but not smiling. "She's just been sitting on my couch watching television. I thought she was about to pass out so it's a good thing that you got here when you did."

"Alright," I told him. I looked over at Mark. "Could you...?" I nodded in the direction of the door.

Mark seemed to remember himself. "Oh, yeah, for sure." He followed Nathan back inside, and I took a few feeble steps into the apartment while I heard them rustling around inside. After a few seconds, Mark emerged from the living room, carrying Terry, who appeared to have passed out. Mark eyed me for a second, standing there holding the door frame for support, and turned to Nathan. "Man, could you carry Vic back to her place? Her ankle's a little sore."

Nathan turned to me dubiously and I opened my mouth, feeling completely ready to object, but the look on Mark's face stopped me. Nathan kind of circled around me for a few seconds before crouching in front of me so I could climb on his back.

"I'm really sorry about everything," I told Nathan as he turned around to awkwardly close his door behind us. "It was really nice of you to take Terry, though. I appreciate that."

"It's no problem," Nathan replied, shrugging. "I just thought that if she stayed out in the hallway she might get the idea that you weren't coming home, so she'd start driving again—"

"What?" I cut him off. "She was driving?"

He set me down in front of my door so I could unlock it. "Yeah, I guess so. Is that her Jeep parked out front?"

I hadn't even noticed a Jeep. "Probably," I sighed, sending a withering glance at Terry that she didn't see.

"I took her keys," Nathan said, taking them out of his pocket. "Are you guys okay now? Do you need my help?

"I think we should be okay," I told him. "Thanks so much, again, Nathan."

"No problem," he said again. "Goodnight, guys."

I heard Nathan opening his door as I unlocked mine. I pushed the door open and Mark carried Terry inside. As he did, I saw her open her eyes. She grinned at me over Mark's shoulder.

"Hey, Vic," she said groggily. Mark jumped slightly and set her down. Terry turned to Mark. "So. We finally get to meet. Mark Johnson the great." She leaned in and gave Mark and loud, smacking kiss on the cheek. "It's so good to finally get to meet you, sweetheart. I've heard good things."

"Maybe you should sit down, Terry," I said, hobbling into the apartment. "I'll get you some water."

Terry saluted me. "You got it, captain," she said, and tripped in the general direction of the couch. Mark started after her and steadied her. Terry laughed. "You two are meant for each other. I might be a little drunk, but I can definitely walk." Mark released her and followed me into the kitchen, looking uncomfortable.

I opened the fridge, standing on one foot. "I'm sorry about her," I told Mark, shaking my head. "If you want to head out, you can."

Mark shrugged. "Are you sure you can handle her?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding. "She seems like she's about to pass out. She won't be all that hard to take care of."

"She—"

"... Is listening!" we heard Terry yell from the living room, and we stopped talking. I placed Terry's car keys on the table and turned to Mark.

"I had a lot of fun tonight, Mark. Even though certain things," I gestured at my ankle, and nodded towards the living room, "didn't turn out so well, it was a really good date."

Mark grinned. "I thought so too. Hopefully the next time we go out I won't injure you." He reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me across the slippery floor on my good foot. "I want to do this again some time," he said quietly. "Maybe next time there won't be anything to hold us back."

"Hopefully," I said, putting my arms around his neck and kissing him again.

"What are you guys doing in there?" Terry shouted. "I can _hear _you!"

"Okay, okay," I said, pulling away from Mark. "I'd better get back to her."

Mark grinned. "Call me, okay?" He pulled me close one more time before letting me go and moving towards the door. "Goodnight, Terry," I heard him say before the door closed behind him.

Terry started laughing as soon as Mark was gone. "You know what I just thought of?" she asked as I limped into the living room, carrying a bag of frozen peas for my ankle. "You know how before, I said 'Mark Johnson the great'? Can you imagine how easily I could have said 'Mark the great Johnson'? That would have been hilarious, right?"

"Don't be juvenile, Terry," I said, throwing the peas into my room and starting to head back into the kitchen to get Terry's water.

"_Don't be juvenile, Terry," _Terry mimicked my voice. "You know, you've been no fun since you got with this Johnson character. He must be sucking all the life out of you instead of just sucking on your face."

"You're welcome," I said, setting down the water on the table. "I'll see you in the morning, Terry,"

"If you don't want me here, I can just leave," Terry called after me as I headed back to my room. "I just thought maybe you'd want to make sure your friend was alright, bitch!"

I shook my head, grabbing the bag of peas off of the floor. "Goodnight, Terry."

"Yeah, whatever."

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**Thanks for reading! Please review! :)**


	20. Chapter 20

**Hey, everyone! Hope everyone's having a good week... Sorry for not updating for a week (two? Three?), and just when I got into semi-regular updates. Fantastic, hey? xD Anyway, Thanks to everyone who's reading this, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! :) **

**Peachy65 - Thanks so much for the review! :) Gotta love those gentlemen, huh? Hah... Thanks again for reading and reviewing, and I hope you like the next update! **

**Alyssa2424 - Thanks for reviewing again! Terry's just one of those people... Blah. xD Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you like the next update! :) **

**Quiz - I'm glad you made your way over here... I'm always glad to hear that someone's liking this. Thank you so much for reading, and reviewing! I hope you enjoy what's to come. **

**Mandamirra10 - Thanks for the review! Chyeeeah, Terry pretty much killed the whole thing that was going on there... Don't worry, I'm sure it'll work itself out. ;) I hope you enjoy the next update! :D**

**LTJM - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you enjoyed it, and I hope you like this next update! :) **

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I woke up soon after lying down to the phone ringing. Deciding that I clearly needed to start unhooking the phone before I went to sleep, I fumbled for it beside the bed and pulled the receiver under the covers with me. "Hello?" I mumbled.

"Hello, am I speaking to Victoria Sommers?" the voice on the other end was unfamiliar.

"Yeah," I said, sitting up. "Who's this?"

"Nurse Catherine Potter," she said in a business-like tone. "I'm calling from the University hospital."

Immediately, images of everyone important to me flashed through my mind. "What? What happened?" I managed to choke out.

"About an hour ago, a Terry Miller was admitted to the emergency room, and she has you listed as her in-case-of-emergency person."

Panic turned to confusion. "Terry Miller? That's not possible—Terry's still here, at my place."

"You might want to take a second look," Nurse Potter told me. "It was my job to phone you and notify you that Terry was here, and that she's in good condition. She sustained minor head injuries and her wrist is badly sprained. We thought you would want to know this for the morning so you could come and get her."

"Thanks," I told her bemusedly. What was this woman talking about? I had just had a small argument with Terry. There was no way she could have left in the time that I'd been asleep. She could barely walk to begin with, anyway.

"Have a nice night," Nurse Potter said, and hung up.

I stared at the receiver for a few seconds, and then swung my legs over the edge of the bed. Putting pressure on my ankle, I found that it was probably three times as sore as it had been when I had went to bed. Using the walls for leverage, I hobbled out into the living room.

Terry _wasn't _there. The living room showed no signs of her ever being there, besides a blanket thrown on the floor.

"Oh my God," I said, searching for my car keys. I stupidly set my foot down on the floor, and it throbbed with pain. I let out a yelp and fell to the floor with a thud. Gritting my teeth, I pulled myself across the floor and into my bedroom.

I sat on the bed, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I obviously couldn't drive with my right ankle in the state that it was, and I couldn't walk to the hospital, either. I seemed to have left my crutches in Mark's car.

Starting to panic again, I reached for the phone and dialled Mark's number. I realized that it was almost three in the morning and Mark had practice later, but I could think of literally nothing else I could do.

"Yeah?" Mark sounded like an old man when he answered the phone.

"Mark?" I said, and I noticed that my voice was oddly high-pitched.

There was a rustling sound on the other end. "Yeah," he said groggily. "Vic?"

"Yeah. Listen, I'm really sorry for calling you right now, but..." my voice broke off. "I didn't know what else to do," I said, hating myself for starting to cry.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding worried and wide awake.

"It's Terry," I stammered. "She's in the hospital. We sort of argued before I went to bed and I just got a call from the hospital, and she's there and I don't know what happened to her and I can't drive because of my ankle..."

"It's okay," Mark said. "Don't worry. I'll be there in a few minutes, alright? Just hold on. Everything's going to be fine, Vic. Just sit tight."

"Okay," I said, and we hung up. As I waited for him, I got dressed carefully in a kind of stupor, thinking. Whatever had happened to Terry was probably my fault. I should have been keeping an eye on her instead of just hurrying off to bed.

I was feeling such a stupid state of guilt waiting for Mark that when he finally got there, I was bawling. When I heard him knock lightly on the door, I limped over to it and threw it open. Mark stood there, wearing sweats and an uneasy look on his face. The moment I saw him and his messy hair and eyes still puffy from sleep, I felt even guiltier.

Mark looked surprised. "What's wrong?" he asked, putting an arm around my shoulders.

I gave a bitter, watery laugh. "You mean besides everything else?" Mark shrugged. "I feel really bad about waking you up."

He frowned. "It's okay. I would have done the same thing. Please don't feel bad about it, Vic. Now, come on. Let's go to the hospital, okay?"

Mark let me climb onto his back again and he carried me out.

As Mark came up beside his car, I noticed that Terry's Jeep was no longer where it had been. "Oh, Jesus," I said, tearing up again.

Mark looked over at me, holding the car door open. "What?"

I shook my head. "Terry _drove_ when she left. I should have hidden the keys..."

Mark took my hands in his. "You have to stop feeling guilty. This _isn't_ your fault, Vic. She had a choice. She could have stayed in your place and slept it off, but she decided to leave. It's not your fault."

I nodded tearfully and Mark squeezed my hands. "I don't deserve to have people like you around me," I told him. "You're amazing, you know that?"

He grinned. "You're making me blush, Vic. Come on, hop in."

I continued to cry like an idiot for the entire drive while Mark sat and tried to say comforting things. He pulled into the hospital parking lot and carried me in.

"You know," I sniffled, "you should just give me my crutches. You don't have to carry me around like this."

Mark chuckled. "I like this. It makes me feel sort of useful."

"You are useful," I mumbled into his shoulder and he laughed again.

A nurse led us to where Terry was. By the time we came close to the door, I was crying again. Mark set me down. "Can you... hobble in there? I'll just let you talk to her alone if you want."

I nodded. "Okay." Using the wall for support, I opened the door.

Terry was sleeping when I came in. She had a cut across her cheek and her arm was in a sling. At the sound of me walking in, blubbering like an idiot, she opened her eyes.

"Hi," I said quietly.

Terry gave me a wry smile. "That took long enough."

"What—?"

"I'll bet you didn't even notice I was gone until someone called you, right? You were too wrapped up in your own little world that you couldn't even go and check on me."

I stared at her. "Are you serious?"

"Were you surprised when they said that I was here?"

"Terry—Why did you leave?" I asked, bewildered that she was acting like this.

She shrugged. "It was obvious that you didn't even want me there. So why would I stay?"

"What are you talking about? I didn't want you to leave!"

"You were making it pretty clear that you did. You just wanted to have Johnson stay over, and I was getting in the way of that. He's out there, isn't he?" Terry nodded in the direction of the door. "Naturally he was the first person you called."

Her voice was so snide that I started to feel annoyed. "Why does it matter who I got to bring me here? I just wanted to see if you were okay."

"It doesn't matter to _me_," Terry said, shrugging again. "I think it's just great that you decided to show up, finally, to say hello and see if I was okay," she said. "It's just great. You just have to realize that you're making the same mistake that I sometimes make."

"I think you're wrong, Terry," I told her savagely, colour rising in my cheeks. "I didn't drive drunk over here. It's just you that's stupid enough to do that."

Terry sneered at me. "Funny. Did your new hockey-playing friends teach you how to be a little bitch?"

"So that's what this is about," I said, shaking my head. "It's that I haven't been spending all of my time with you, right? You're jealous that I actually have other people to talk to?"

She laughed. "No, not really. I'm glad that you're going to have someone new to phone, crying in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream. That's no problem to me. I just find it kind of funny that you _actually_ think that these guys, especially Mark, will want anything to do with you after they're done here with hockey."

I stared at her. "Not that it matters, but those guys are nothing like the guys you go out with. Mark, either. Chances are he'll be around in the morning."

Terry shook her head. "You keep making the slut and alcoholic remarks because you know that I'm right, Vic. You're falling for a guy who won't give a shit about you in six months. Just wait, and I'll try not to tell you 'I told you so', sweetheart."

"I'm not going to give you a chance to do that," I shot back. "I don't want to see you in the hallway anymore, Terry. My landlord is getting annoyed by all the trash out there. Don't call me either."

She snorted as I walked out of the room, hardly feeling the pain in my ankle. "Fine by me. Have fun getting dumped on."

Mark was sitting on the floor with his back against the wall when I came out, his eyelids drooping slightly. He looked up at me as I made my way out of the room. "Is she alright?"

I shrugged. "She's insane, so I guess the nurse was right about the head injury. But it doesn't matter. We should go, Mark."

Accepting that I didn't seem to want to talk about it, Mark crouched wordlessly in front of me and I climbed on, my head full of Terry's words. She and I had been friends for almost four years, and as mad as I was, I had to admit that I'd never heard Terry be so honest. Most of the time she just went along with what I said, even if it didn't make much sense. I'd thought that this had made Terry a good friend. I realized now that I was wrong about that, but something that Terry had said struck a chord with me: _"You're falling for a guy who won't give a shit about you in six months."_

I studied the back of Mark's head as he walked out the doors of the hospital. I'd never really thought that it was possible for Mark to be the kind of guy that used girls. Realistically, I knew that hockey players had a bit of a reputation for being... assholes. Mark had said it himself a while ago. I'd just taken for granted the idea that it was possible for him to be different. Mark had also said that I took his mind off of the stress of hockey. Was it possible that Mark was just a good actor, and he was just using me for the time when he was in Minneapolis, or was he genuine? Was Terry right?

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**Thanks for reading this far! Please review, I'd love to know what you thought! **

**PS. Anyone who would be interested in possibly collaborating with me on a future story, for surely contact me, because that's something I'd love to do! Just throwing that out there. There are a lot of good writers in this category, and I've always wondered what it would be like to work with someone else on a story.  
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	21. Chapter 21

**Ugh. So I suck. It's been about a month. But here I am, bearing a new update, so don't hate me. **

**LTJM - Thank you for reading and reviewing! Thanks for the compliments, and I'm glad you enjoyed it, and that you thought Mark was cute! Enjoy this next update! :)**

**Peachy65 - Thanks for reviewing! Fortunately we won't be seeing too much of Terry from now on. xD Hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Mandamirra10 - Thanks for reviewing! I agree, I'd have kicked Terry to the curb. And chances are, you're right about Mark. :) I hope you enjoy the next update! **

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After what became infamously known as "The Terry Incident", I started to realize something highly depressing about myself: I basically had no friends. When I'd met Terry, I'd somehow lost contact with most of the girls who I was friends with in high school, probably because being friends with someone like Terry required most of my time.

So I called Wade. Surprisingly enough, he was almost always willing to go for a cup of coffee with me, or just hang around. I still didn't have a job, and after begging and pleading (and lying through my teeth about not being able to find anything for work), my parents agreed to pay my bills for another three months. The deal was that in January, I'd have to either have found myself a job, or be brave enough to move back in with them. Something told me that I was not nearly brave enough.

"You might as well just move back," Wade told me jokingly, laughing to himself as we sat in the garage, me perched on an overturned bucket and Wade leaning against the wall, taping his stick meticulously. "I mean, you're spending more time here than you did when you were in high school."

I threw a piece of discarded tape at him. "Thanks so much," I said. "I don't talk to you guys for a while, and you tell me that I'm avoiding you, but when I decide to make an appearance, you tell me I'm spending too much time here."

Wade grinned. "I guess we're just really hard to please."

"Tell me about it."

Wade pushed himself off of the wall, searching around the garage for his tennis ball. "Don't you have, y'know, a boyfriend or something? What ever happened with Mark Johnson?"

I smiled to myself. Wade made a bit of a point out of asking about Mark whenever he got an opportunity. I noticed that Wade had taped big pieces of cardboard to his makeshift net, using the little technique that Mark had told him about. "I don't know," I said, leaning forward. "I haven't talked to him since what happened with Terry." I felt bad about it. It had been four days since Mark had driven me home from the hospital, and a part of me wanted to call him, but for some reason, I just couldn't.

"Why would you be avoiding _him_?" Wade asked, rifling through one of the boxes stacked against the wall. "He didn't do anything wrong, did he? If anything I'd imagine that you would be _especially _appreciative towards him."

I held up a hand. "That was a little bit too creepy, thanks," I told him, shaking my head, and Wade laughed. "No, it's just that... Terry made an interesting point when we were fighting. She told me that he wasn't going to care about me when he goes back to Wisconsin, and I'm starting to see how that could be true."

Wade frowned, shaking his head as he completely overturned the box impatiently. "I don't get it. He could have just told you, 'Forget it, I don't want this much drama in my life,' and disappeared, but he didn't. Doesn't that tell you anything about him?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"I don't either," Wade said absently, poking through the mess he'd made on the floor. He straightened up, and sat down on a bucket next to mine. "You _should_ call him, though. There's no way that you'll ever know if you were right about him if you don't, right?"

I gave Wade a long look. "Right, I guess," I said. "I don't understand you sometimes, you know that?"

He looked up. "Hmm? What do you mean?"

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "I mean, you're so smart about stuff like this, you know, and giving me advice, but..." I left the sentence, hoping he'd catch the meaning I was throwing out.

Wade sighed. "I guess I'm just better at some stuff than I am at others. I'd rather help you with your silly little problems than do homework." He paused, thinking. "And _that's _definitely saying something."

I laughed, hitting him lightly in the shoulder. "Shut up." I got to my feet slowly. "I should probably be getting back. You know, making some phone calls."

"Good," Wade laughed. "You let me know how that goes, alright?"

"I will. Talk to you later, Wade, okay?"

"Yup. See you."

I drove home, deep in thought. Wade was right. Of course he was. I was being so ridiculous. Terry had said the things that she'd said because she was trying to hurt me, and it was my fault for letting it get to me the way that it did. I didn't know Mark well enough to know if he was using me or not, and from what I'd seen of him, I had a feeling that he wasn't.

As soon as I got home, I grabbed the phone, dialling Mark's number. The phone rang and rang, but no one picked up. I set the phone down, an awful feeling creeping into my stomach. What if Mark had given up on me, decided that I was too much drama and more work than he was willing to put in? Trying not to panic, I found the envelope where Mac's number was written and dialled that number. This time, someone picked up.

"Hello?" I could hardly hear whoever it was over the sound of other people talking in the background.

"Hello? Mac?"

"No, baby. OC. How can I help you?" There were sounds of people jeering loudly in the background.

OC. I tried to remember who OC was. "Is Mac there, Jack?" I asked, remembering who he was suddenly.

"Uh, yeah, he should be around here somewhere, baby. Who am I talking to, again?"

"Victoria," I told him. "Vic."

"Oh—hey! Vic! What's happening with you, baby? Johnson's been on pins and needles waiting for you to give him a call."

"Has he?" I asked, wondering if I'd heard him wrong.

"For sure. He's been wicked upset that you didn't call, so he decided to give you some space. It's a damn shame, since today's his birthday and we're having people over here tonight."

Mark's birthday. Oh, wow. "It's his birthday? Is Mark there, Jack?"

"Uh... Yeah, he was. I don't see him anywhere now, though. I think he left a little while ago with some chick."

I didn't say anything.

"You still there, Vic? I was just kidding!"

"Jack," I said impatiently. "Is Mark there?"

"I wasn't kidding when I said that he's not here anymore. I think him and Baker went to get some more beer or something. You should make an appearance here, though, Vic. I think that would make the birthday boy's night. I think he really wanted to call you today but he thought you wouldn't want to talk. Are you mad at him?"

"No, I'm not," I said. "Look, I'll be over there in about a half an hour, okay? If Mark comes back, please tell him that I'm coming, Jack, alright?"

"You got it, baby. I'll see you in a bit!"

I wasn't completely sure what I was planning on doing once I got to Mac's apartment, but I knew that if I stuck around at my place all night while I knew Mark was going to be mingling with little female hockey "fans", I would lose my mind entirely. I hopped in my car and drove over there, my mind racing.

There were a bunch of cars parked outside the apartment building where Mark lived, and as I tried to find a parking spot, I saw Mark's car driving around back. Eyes wide, I parked my car and ran after them.

Mark pulled into a spot and he and Bill Baker started walking towards the door, armed with several cases of beer. Baker noticed me first, standing in the shadow of the building and probably looking highly suspicious.

"Who's that?" he asked loudly, and Mark turned to look. Wondering why the hell I was hiding in the first place, I stepped out into the light.

"Vic?" Mark set the beer down on the front step and started tentatively towards me. "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "I called and OC told me that you guys were having people over, so I thought..." I let the sentence trail off, watching Baker over Mark's shoulder as he hoisted the extra beer and struggled to get inside to give us privacy. I looked abruptly back into Mark's face. "Look, Mark... I'm sorry I didn't call."

Mark tilted his head to the side. "It's okay. I mean, I wondered why, but I'm not upset, or anything. Was it something I did?"

I shook my head so hard that my neck cracked. "_No_, Mark. It wasn't anything like that. It's just... I..." I couldn't explain it without sounding like a huge bitch.

He gave me a patient look. "It's okay," he repeated. "If you just wanted to be friends, it's okay."

"No!" I said so loudly that Mark jumped. "That isn't what I want at all, Mark, I swear. I really just want you to... You're... I think that we..." I couldn't piece together a coherent sentence to save my soul. Mark continued to watch me with the same, unwearied expression on his face.

I stopped babbling and stood there for a moment, staring at Mark, trying to figure out the one, perfect thing to say, that one gem that was a combination of cleverness and romanticism, that would let him know that I _didn't_ just want to be his friend. That was the last thing in the whole world that I wanted. But the longer I stood there staring at him, the more it dawned on me that that gem wasn't going to come to me.

Sometimes words fail us. There are times when we can't get across the things that we're feeling because words would cheapen it. I guess that's why people say that actions speak louder than words.

I took a step forward and took Mark's hands in mine, looking up into his face to where his expression had changed to slight confusion. I opened my mouth, prepared to let whatever was there fly out spontaneously. "No." I said simply and inexplicably. Then, to both cover up the bewildered look on Mark's face and to correct the awful moment I'd created, I kissed him, and I think that got the message across far better than anything I'd said. Mark put his hands on the small of my back and pulled me tightly to him.

We pulled apart, and I nuzzled into his neck, enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. "Happy birthday, Mark," I told him. "I don't ever want to be your friend."

Mark laughed, pressing his lips to my forehead. "Great. I don't want to be yours, either. Do you want to go inside?"

I nodded, and he led me by the hand into Mac's apartment.

"Hey—Johnson, where the hell did you go, brother?" I heard OC yell as we walked back inside. There weren't as many people there as I'd thought there would have been. In fact, there were only about fifteen people there. OC made his way towards us. "Vic!" he said, clapping me on the back as if we'd known each other for years. "Glad to see you here, baby."

"Vic? Who just said Vic? Is she here?" Bah stood up abruptly from a chair in front of the television. He spotted us and made his way over, thrusting a drink into my hand. "It's not beer, don't worry," he said reassuringly.

I took a small sip, my face screwing up at how strong it was.

"So are you two here together? You know... _together?_" Bah asked, leaning in our direction.

Mark and I exchanged a glance. "Yeah," Mark said before I could answer. "We're here together."

"As a couple?" I didn't see who had said that, but I looked tentatively up at Mark. He grinned at me, and then nodded.

Everyone in our little circle standing there jumped as Mark said loudly to everyone else in the room, "It's my twenty-third birthday today, and I couldn't be happier, everyone! This," he pointed down at me, "Is my girlfriend. And her name is_ Vic_." Everyone looked around for a second, probably a little confused, and then started to clap awkwardly.

"That was a little over the top," I said, my face turning red.

Bah winked at me. "I'd like to propose a toast, everyone," he said, calling everyone's attention again, "to a long and happy relationship between my two friends here, the birthday boy Mark Johnson, and his lucky lady, Vic!"

"To Mark and Vic," Mike Eruzione crowed, holding his bottle up, and everyone followed suit.

I laughed, and Mark took my hand in his. "Kiss her, you fool!" OC yelled.

I looked up at Mark, who shrugged. "To us," he said quietly, and put his arms around my shoulders again, pulling me close for another kiss.

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**Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, and review! :) **


	22. Chapter 22

**Hi! I didn't forget about this story. I swear. Although I'm sure some of you did. Hehh? Ehh? Ehh. **

**So anyway, I don't like this chapter. I'm just throwing that out there. I just finished it today, because I had a few hours to kill, and it's essentially just filler stuff. If you forget what happened in the last chapter (I have only a vague idea), go ahead and check back. I should have more time to write now that I'm done school, so there probably won't be another two month wait between updates. Hopefully. **

**On another note, today (February 22nd) marks the thirtieth anniversary of the Miracle on Ice. Well, just the Soviet/USA game. And that's... that's totally why I'm updating today and not the other days when I could have updated. It's nice to have an update on the anniversary. For sure. I've heard that there are people calling the progress of the 2010 USA Olympic team "the Miracle on Ice 2", which was pretty funny. They embarassed the Canadian team last night, and that was, y'know, awesome to watch as a Canadian. My American friend sent me an email saying "Do you believe in miracles? I sure do." and I was huffy. True story. **

**On yet_ another_ note, I want to wish Mark Johnson and the United States Olympic women's team the best of luck in the Olympics. I don't really follow women's hockey, but I'm sure they're doing well. Hopefully the Canadian team does better against them. **

**Anyway, I hope you like this next update!  
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Two weeks later, I got a phone call at three in the morning. I opened my eyes wearily, staring at the phone, hoping that it would just stop ringing. When it didn't, I grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Vic? Are you awake?" It was Mark.

"I guess so," I told him sleepily. "I thought you were in Warroad."

I could hear the sounds of people talking loudly in the background. "I am. Well, I mean, I was. We're in Thief River right now, actually."

"Why?"

"It's sort of a long story. We're just stuck here for a while, so I thought I'd give you a call to say that we probably won't be back in Minneapolis for a few hours at least. I just wanted to tell you to probably not call me until later on in the afternoon."

I was quiet for a minute. "Let me get this straight," I said slowly, yawning. "You're calling me and waking me up to tell me that I shouldn't call you and wake you up?"

"Yeah," Mark said, laughing quietly. "The logistics are kind of messed up, huh? I would actually love it if you called me tomorrow."

"But just not until you're up and around, right?" I teased. "Seriously, why are you guys not home?"

Mark sighed. "The guy flying the plane hit a light pole."

"What?" I sat up in bed. "A light pole? Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah, we're good, but we just have to get the plane back where it needs to be so we can take off. We've just had some terrible luck today."

"Hmm," I said tiredly. "Did you guys win the game?"

Mark sighed again. "No, we didn't. I don't know what's going on right now. People are talking about how Herb apparently called Rizzo into his office and told him that he was going to send him home."

I wasn't even involved in the hockey team and this came as a slight shock to me. "Seriously? He wouldn't do that, would he?"

"I don't know. Herb's kind of crazy that way, I guess. He's not afraid to just make changes to get a reaction out of people. He's... I don't know. I don't know what some of the guys would do if he sent Rizzo down. I mean, he's the captain, Vic. How crazy do you have to be to pull a move like that?"

"Maybe he just wants you guys to know that he's serious about winning," I suggested.

"That's just it," Mark said. He sounded so tired it made me feel kind of bad for him. "I feel like I don't even know where I stand on this team anymore. I mean, at one point Herb told me what to expect and what I had to do, but if he's the kind of guy who'd just... I don't even know anymore. I think hockey is more stressful than any other thing in the world."

I laughed. "Well, we'll meet up tomorrow, when I give you a call at about noon, okay? And we'll talk about this. That's what I'm here for, right?"

"Right," Mark said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. "I have to get off the phone, though. Baker has to call his mommy." I heard laughter in the background, and an exasperated sounding person saying, "Shut up, Johnson!"

I laughed. "Alright. I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah," Mark replied. "I miss you, Vic. Have a good sleep."

"Miss you too," I said, smiling.

--

I ended up not calling Mark in the morning, as I had threatened to do. I ended up calling Wade, who was all too happy to come out for lunch with me. In fact, he seemed like he was waiting for me to call.

"Well?" he said immediately after getting into the car with me. "How'd it go the other night?"

"You know," I told him, "you're almost a little bit too involved in my personal life, little brother."

Wade gave me a grin. "Shut up. What happened?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we're... together now. More than we were before. Dating, I guess."

Wade didn't say anything for the rest of the way, and I guessed that he didn't really know what to say without sounding creepy.

We went to a small cafe, and I was surprised to see one of the waitresses greeting Wade by name and giving him a broad grin.

"Who was that?" I asked him after she sauntered away, leaving us at a booth next to a window.

Wade shrugged. "Just a girl from school. She likes hockey players."

"You don't say," I laughed, looking over my shoulder and catching the girl looking at us from behind a stack of plastic cups. "Do you mean that she is a fan of hockey in general, or that she is a fan... of hockey players?"

Grinning, Wade shrugged again. "She likes hockey players," he repeated.

I shook my head at him. "That's definitely a classy kind of girl for you. I approve, Wade."

He laughed. "Well, good." Wade turned his head and looked out the window. "Do you know that guy?" he asked, nodding his head in the direction of the door.

I turned and looked. "Oh, of course," I said. Perry was standing there, grinning and waving. He made his way over to the door.

"Don't look so happy to see me," Perry said loudly from the doorway as he walked towards us.

Wade gave me a questioning look as Perry made me squish over so he could sit down. Perry reached across the table for Wade's hand. "Lance Perry," he said. "Call me Perry, though."

Wade shook with him, looking critically at him. "Wade," he said. "I'm her brother."

Perry grinned. "I didn't know you had a brother," he said. "I have an older brother, and he's a dick. He makes me stay at his house so he can split the rent."

"That's better than being homeless," Wade replied, taking a long drink of water.

Unfazed, Perry turned to me. "I was going to call you tonight. I have a huge favour to ask you."

"What's that?" I asked,

"Well, for starters, I got fired from Athena's. Andre told me I was intolerable."

I had to laugh a little. "I have a really hard time believing that, Perry."

"Do you? I think I'm actually pretty charming," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, he told me that I could still come to the company Christmas party, because I already bought a ticket for me and my date."

"It's September."

Perry shrugged. "Andre doesn't mess around when it comes to Christmas parties. But yeah. I have this extra ticket now because the girl I was supposed to take can't come along anymore. Isn't that just weird?"

I could see the place where Perry was obviously taking this, and I decided to do everything in my power to stop it from getting there.

Before I could say anything, Wade knocked his water over, spilling it all over the table. More specifically, all over Perry. He got up abruptly, laughing. "This is why I hate going out to eat. I'll be right back, guys."

When he was gone, Wade grabbed a napkin and started to wipe up the water. "Who the hell is that?" he asked accusingly, throwing the soaking napkins into his empty cup.

"Perry," I said simply, shrugging. "You've seen him before, remember? That one time we went out to eat with Mark and his friends, outside the restaurant?"

Wade wrinkled his nose. "Oh," he said. "Right. _That_ guy. I thought he looked kind of familiar. Is he your stalker?"

I gave Wade a warning look as Perry returned, an enormous wet spot on the front of his pants. He grinned at Wade. "Nice shot," he said. "I think I'm going to take off, though. You know, possibly change my pants." Perry took his jacket off and wrapped it around his waist. "I'll call you tonight, Victoria, alright?"

"Okay," I told him. I felt bad for Perry. He was such a genuinely _nice_ guy. I realized that I was treating him horribly, which made me feel worse.

"I'm an awful person," I told Wade as I drove him home.

"I know," he said. "What made you realize it?"

I elbowed him. "Nothing. Forget it."

Wade laughed. "Do you feel bad about being kind of rude to that guy? Harry?"

"His name is Perry, actually. And yeah, I sort of do. He's just trying to be nice."

"Sure," Wade said. "But he comes on a little strong, doesn't he? Didn't you say that you didn't really know him?"

"I guess so, but he's just—"

"Trying to be nice, I know," Wade cut me off. "But does he play hockey for the Olympic team? No, Victoria, he sure doesn't. You have a pretty good catch for a boyfriend right now."

I frowned at him. "I wasn't talking about jumping ship, Wade. I was just saying that Perry was a nice guy."

Wade shrugged. "Well, just watch yourself. Girls like guys like Perry. He doesn't care if you reject him, either."

"Thanks, Dad."

Later that afternoon, I decided to call Mark to see what he was doing.

"I'm just getting ready to go to practice," he told me hurriedly. "Is it alright if I come over when I'm done?"

"Yeah, that'd be great," I told him. "Call me from the rink, okay?"

I sank into my couch, bored already. I got up to turn the television on, and found that it wouldn't turn on. "That's fantastic," I said, whacking the top of it angrily. I sat back down, looking around my empty apartment. "I have no friends," I told myself.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I got up to answer it, wondering who it would be. Pulling the door open, I found that it was Nathan, who had a towel over his shoulder and a bag of clothes in his hand. "Hey," he said, grinning at me.

"Do you need the shower?" I asked, feeling strangely glad that he was there.

He nodded. "Apparently they're sending a guy out to fix it one of these days, so I'll be out of your hair. I just need to get myself cleaned up for tonight."

"What, do you have a hot date or something?"

Nathan looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, actually."

I laughed. "Of course. Go ahead and use it. But you have to tell me about the girl when you come out."

He grinned. "I promise." He disappeared into the bathroom and I went into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

When Nathan reappeared, I think he might have thought I was only joking when I asked him to tell me about the girl he was going out with. Sadly, I was so bored that I wanted him to tell me about it. He was fully clothed when he walked back through the living room, and he paused by the door, caught my eye and sighed. "You want me to tell you about her?"

"Just a little. You don't have to if you don't want to, though."

He laughed. "No, I do." He moved to the couch and sat down. "Her name is Ellen. And I met her at the grocery store."

I nodded. "That's cute. Did you both reach for the same head of lettuce at the same time?"

Nathan shook his head. "No. It was actually a lot less romantic than that. I work at the grocery store, and when she came up to pay, she left her pocketbook on the counter, so I chased her out of the store to give it back to her and then I asked her out."

"That's romantic!" I laughed. "You—" I was cut off by the sound of the phone ringing. "Sorry, just a second," I said, getting up and going into the bedroom to get it.

"It's okay," Nathan said. "That was pretty much the whole story, anyway. I should go. See you around, Victoria."

"Yeah," I replied as the phone rang again. "Have fun tonight!"

I grabbed the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey." It was Mark. "Guess whose practice got cancelled?"

"Yours? Really? Why?" I said, hearing the door close behind Nathan.

"I think there might be something wrong with the ice plant here," Mark said. "It's good that this isn't the Bloomington one, because if it was we'd be screwed. Anyway, I have the night off now. Is it okay if I come over?"

I caught myself nodding. "Yeah, that'd be great. Have you eaten?"

"Sort of. I ate a bit before I went to the rink, so I should be okay for a while. We could go out and get a bite to eat later, if you wanted."

"That sounds good," I said.

"So I'll see you in a bit?"

"I hope so. Bye, Mark."

I hung up the phone, feeling happy that I suddenly had plans. I looked around my apartment and found it reasonably clean. There was nothing to do but wait for Mark to get there.

About twenty minutes passed and the phone rang again. I picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, how's it going?"

I frowned. "Not bad. Who is this?"

The person laughed. "It's Perry. I guess I thought you'd know my voice by now."

"Sorry it's not ringing in my head," I told him. "How are you?"

"I'm alright," he said. "You know, went home, and changed my pants... The usual."

I laughed. "Sounds like fun. I'm sorry about my brother today."

"And why is that? I think I made a really good impression on him. What did I ever do to him, by the way?" Perry didn't sound at all upset.

"I think it's more or less the fact that you were around that bothered him," I said reasonably. "He likes Mark."

Perry laughed again. "Seriously? He thinks that I'm going to steal you away from Johnson? That actually makes me feel better about myself. The younger brother considers me a threat."

"Yeah, you'd better watch out, Perry. The next time it won't be just a glass spilt on your lap."

"I wouldn't be surprised. Your brother could probably take me. Anyway, there's an actual reason that I called. Do you remember today before I had to go when I was talking about the Christmas party at Athena's?"

I nodded without saying anything, and then remembered I was on the phone. "Yeah."

"It wouldn't break my heart if you said no, but would you want to come with me?"

I wanted to say no, but I couldn't think of anything to say other than, "I have a boyfriend."

Perry snorted. "Come on. I'm not asking you to come to Vegas to elope, Victoria. I'm asking you to come with me to a Christmas party because I don't have anyone to go with."

I frowned, remembering how badly I'd felt when I thought about how awful I was being to Perry. I sighed. "Fine. When is it?"

He laughed. "Don't sound so excited about it. But I'm glad you're going to come, Victoria. It's on the night of November 16th. We'll probably talk before then so we can figure other things out. I just wanted to make sure you were coming with me."

I caught myself nodding again. "That sounds good. So you'll call me?" I saw headlights pulling up beside my building, and I assumed it was Mark, wondering how fast he'd driven getting there.

"Yeah, I will. Why are you in such a big hurry to get off the phone? Is Johnson there?"

I looked out the window. "I think he might be. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Sounds good. You have fun with that big, tough hockey player, Victoria."

I wrinkled my nose. "Goodbye, Perry."

I hung up the phone as I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. At the first knock I wrenched it open, revealing a startled-looking Mark.

"Hey," he said. "Were you just waiting by the door?"

I shrugged, realizing just then how it must have looked. "No, I just heard you coming. How was the drive over?"

Mark walked inside, pulling the door closed behind him. "It was fine, I guess. What have you been up to today?"

"Nothing really," I told him, sitting down on one end of the couch while he sat on the other. "I went out for lunch with Wade, and then I came back here."

"Sounds wild," Mark commented, smiling at me. "Sometime we should switch lives for a day. You go to hockey practices and dry land training all day, and I'll hang out with your younger brother."

I laughed. "He would probably rather hang out with you than me, anyway. I'm not too sure that your coach would be completely sold on the idea of me taking your place for five minutes, let alone a day, Mark."

Mark shrugged. "I didn't say it was a perfect idea. We'll have to teach you how to skate one of these days. How's that ankle, by the way?"

I looked down at my foot and twisted my foot around. "It's a lot better, actually. I woke up one morning and it felt perfectly fine. I guess you didn't do as much damage to it as you thought."

"Well, that's a relief," Mark said. "Hey, I was looking at our schedule, and in December we play a game in Milwaukee. I know that that's not exactly close for you to drive to, but my parents are going to be there, and I think I'd really like them to meet you."

I thought about it. Milwaukee actually was fairly far away (I'd driven there with my family when I was fourteen), and the thought of meeting Mark's parents was something that genuinely terrified me to no end. So I said the first thing I could think of.

"Do you want to meet mine tonight?"

Mark looked surprised. "Tonight? As in right now?"

I shrugged. "Sure. I could give them a call and we could go over there for dinner or something. It would save us from having to eat something that I cooked."

He laughed. "Well, when you put it that way..."

And even as I laughed along with him, all I could think about was how sorry I was for him.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hah. Well... Here's another update. I'm not going to say this time that I'm going to start updating regularly again, because I know that exactly zero people believe that at this point. xD Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear it! **

The phone call to my house was brief; needless to say, my parents were thrilled that they were going to meet Mark, since they'd probably been on pins and needles wondering when they _would_ since that day that I told them that Mark and I had gone for ice cream. That was another reason why I felt sorry for Mark. My parents seemed like they had such high expectations for him. He was going to have no idea what hit him.

"Are you coming now?" my dad said, barely hiding the excitement in his voice. "Are you coming to eat with us? Should we set two more spots at the table?"

I laughed. "Yeah, Dad. That would be great."

"Alright. We'll set spots for you and Mark. Tell him we said hello for us, alright? Will you tell him?"

"I will, Dad."

I hung up the phone, shaking my head.

"What?" Mark asked curiously.

I grabbed my keys off of the table. "My parents said hello in advance, just in case they're too star struck to say anything when they actually get introduced to you."

Mark looked confused, but he seemed to go along with it as he followed me out of the apartment and to my car.

On the way over to the house, I filled Mark in on the finer details about my parents. I had a feeling that he knew that I'd come up with the idea of meeting my parents to avoid telling him that I wasn't so sure about meeting his. It was awful and I knew that this made me a hypocrite, and as we pulled up to the house, I hoped that he didn't mind me being flighty and not telling him exactly what I felt.

It seemed like my parents were just waiting at the door for us to show up, because as we were approaching the front door, it swung open and they walked out to meet us, waving and calling hellos into the night. To my slight surprise, Mark didn't give me any strange looks, or stand shyly in the background, as I probably would have done. He got right out of the car and approached my parents.

My mother reached Mark first, outstretching a hand for him to shake. "Welcome to our home, Mark. It's nice to meet you."

Mark shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, too. Thanks for having me over."

Next, my dad shook Mark's hand solemnly. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mark. I've heard a lot about you." I wondered what made him say that, since I'd told him basically nothing about Mark.

Mark smiled warmly back at him. "It's good to meet you too, Mr. Sommers."

Dad laughed jovially. "Call me David, Mark, please." He gave me a disturbingly obvious look of approval and then turned back to Mark. "Let's get you inside, shall we?"

They ushered Mark inside, leaving me standing on the sidewalk. "Uh, come on," Wade said from the doorway, laughing as my parents brought Mark inside, chattering at him. "I think he might need you."

"Do you think it's too soon to be introducing him to them?" I asked Wade as he closed the door behind us.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess we'll see. Did he seem like he didn't like the idea?"

"No, not at all," I said, shaking my head. "But then again, he's obviously a really good actor." I nodded in the direction of Mark, who was looking with an expression of acute interest at Wade's team picture from last year, which my dad was showing him, probably telling him the stats of every player in the picture. He seemed like he was nodding or shaking his head in the appropriate parts, and I started to wonder why it was that I thought Mark would be as horrible with parents as I had a feeling I would be.

Wade laughed. "Well, you go save him. I'll distract Dad."

"Deal."

I walked over to Mark and grabbed his arm. "Can I steal you for just a second? Do you want the tour of the house?"

Mark glanced at my dad, and then nodded. "Sure. I'll be back in a minute, alright, David?"

My dad looked up from the picture. "Oh, yes. Of course. Take all the time you want."

I led Mark into the hallway, grinning at him. "Sorry about that. It seems like they really like you."

Mark laughed. "Don't be sorry. I like your parents. I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get a tour of your house, though. It's my only weakness."

"I knew it," I told him, shaking my head. I gestured around us. "Well, right now we're in a hallway. My family uses it for pretty much what other families use hallways for." I pointed to the left of us. "Right here are the stairs, which we walk up and down. I'll show you up there in a second. If you'll follow me, I can show you the washroom and where my parents sleep."

"Excellent," Mark said, clasping his hands together. "This is absolutely worth my ten dollars."

I laughed. "Come on. My room is right after this."

Mark paused. "What?"

"My room," I repeated. "Where I slept when I lived here, I mean. It's not my room now, I guess."

Mark was shaking his head at me. "Sorry. I guess I just have a dirty mind. Show me your room."

I tilted my head at him. "I don't get it." Mark didn't say anything; he just continued to give me a meaningful look as if he didn't want to say. Then I got it. "Oh," I said, nodding. "_Oh._ No, Mark. I didn't mean that. I meant show you... the room. You know, where I used to... sleep."

He started laughing. "I figured. I thought for a second that you were maybe a little wilder than I gave you credit for being." He turned to walk down the hallway.

"Hey—wait a second," I said, grabbing his arm. "Are you saying that I'm not wild? Vanilla, even?"

"No," Mark replied. "I don't know very many girls who would try something in a house where their parents are, especially on my first trip over here. That's pretty risky of you, Vic."

I heard the teasing tone in his voice and frowned. "It's not risky. They're probably all so wrapped up in day dreams about you that they wouldn't notice if we 'tried something' right in the living room."

"So are you saying that we're going to?"

I shrugged. "I'm not saying that nothing will happen. I'm also not saying that something will. All I know is that I close the door of my bedroom out of habit. If you just happened to be in there with me, then I guess that's just how it goes."

"Are you serious?"

I absolutely was _not_, but I was so fired up at the thought of Mark thinking that I was boring that I decided to keep up the illusion that I was. I nodded slowly at him and jerked my head in the direction of my room.

Mark shook his head at me. "Jesus, Vic. We haven't even talked about this. Aren't we... moving kind of fast, here?"

"Since when do guys care if things move fast?"

He shrugged. "Since I started thinking about how much I want this to work out."

My interest piqued, I leaned against the wall and slid down until I was sitting. "Okay. So let's talk."

Mark sat down slowly, looking confused. "Alright. What are we talking about?"

I pulled my knees up and wrapped my arms around them. "Didn't you just say? Sex. Tell me things about yourself, Mark."

"I—uh..." Mark looked at me confusedly. "You're going to have to be more specific. What kinds of things about myself? Are we talking... physical things...?"

"No no," I said, laughing and shaking my head. "All in good time, Mark. I mean, your past. How many other girls have you been with?"

He appeared to think for a minute. "Eight," he said, "and what about you?" I have to admit, I was surprised that Mark had the number that he did. Most of the hockey players that I knew got around pretty well. Maybe Mark _was_ different.

I held up six fingers. "Who were yours?"

"Well," Mark said, leaning his head back against the wall. "The first one was a girl named Julia, and I was a sophomore. She was... a dare, I guess. A bunch of guys on my hockey team bet me that I couldn't... and I guess they were wrong. I think I talked to her once after that." He shook his head. "Anyway. The second was my girlfriend Holly later on that year. We broke up in the summer, and I started dating this other girl, Susan, right after that. We actually dated for quite a while, though. She would be number three. After we broke up, numbers four and five happened."

I stared at him. "At the same time?"

Mark shrugged. "I think I might have told you once that people do stupid things when they drink. That's my story. And believe me, you don't want to hear it. Anyway, the sixth..." he paused, fidgeting with his hands. "was Leslie." He frowned. "That's the only one that I really regret." He suddenly seemed really uncomfortable.

"Why's that?"

He shrugged. "Well, she's a close family friend, for one. Our parents always expected us to get together, and one night we were out for dinner, just visiting, and..." He paused, thinking. "It just happened, I guess," he said finally. "Anyway, it just got awkward after that, and I think she started to have feelings for me, but I just don't think of her in that way. The sex kind of wrecked our friendship, and I feel bad about it."

I shook my head. "That's horrible."

"Yeah, but I think we're starting to get better," Mark said, smiling. "Maybe when you meet my parents you can meet her."

"Maybe." I wanted Mark to keep talking so he would steer the conversation away from me going to Milwaukee to meet his parents.

"Anyway, where was I? Number six?"

Mark's story was interrupted by Wade coming up the stairs. "What are you guys..." he began, and then stopped. "Oh. You guys are... Are you...? Should I go?"

"No, it's okay," I said, getting up. "Is dinner ready?"

He nodded. "Yup."

"What were _you_ _two_ talking about?" Wade hissed at me as we walked back down the stairs.

I shrugged. "Couple stuff. Nothing you should worry about, little brother."

Mark must have heard, because he grinned back over his shoulder at me.


	24. Chapter 24

**Mmkay, so I'm back. This is just... Y'know, another chapter. And I'm going to say right here, on the INTERNET, that I WILL FINISH THIS DAMN STORY THIS SUMMER. It's taken me over a year to do this much, and if I kind of fizzle out, it'll never get done and that's just dumb. So yeah. I'm gonna finish this summer. I promise. I'd better get going. **

**Anyway, enjoy, and review if you liked it... and even if you didn't. I want to hear it! **

Dinner actually ended up being fairly enjoyable. It seemed like my mom had put a painstaking amount of effort into making the food and I guessed that it was because of Mark. My parents probably asked him twenty times if everything was alright. He was almost frustratingly polite to them, saying "please" and "thank you" at the appropriate times, listening to and laughing at my parents' stories about nothing, and rising to help us with the dishes when we finished eating.

My mom shoed him, my dad and Wade into the living room, saying that she and I would take care of the dishes, and they went. As we were finishing up, I heard my dad say winningly, "Mark, did I mention..." and I knew Mark was in for an earful.

"He seems very nice," my mom said, emptying the water from the sink. "Very respectful. I imagined him being a bit stuck up, actually."

I shrugged. "He's not. But I'm glad you guys like him."

"We do, very much," she replied absently. "But don't you think this might be a bit soon to be introducing him to your parents?"

"I don't know," I said, placing a plate up on a shelf. "He wants me to go to Milwaukee in December some time to meet his, so I figured it was just something we were doing."

She looked surprised. "That's interesting," she said. "I suppose if he has very strong feelings for you, then that sort of thing would make sense, in a way..."

I shook my head at her. "It's not like that, Mom," I told her. "We haven't known each other for that long."

"Well, you never know," she said. "But, anyway. Should you two be going? Does he have practice tomorrow?"

"Probably," I said. "We should probably leave pretty soon, if I can pry him away from Dad."

I wandered out into the living room, where my dad was telling Mark about his rec hockey team with the greatest of enthusiasm. Mark was absorbed in his story, leaning over with his elbows resting on his knees like a little kid.

"... It's really just us older men trying to keep playing, but I really enjoy it," he was saying as I entered the room.

Mark smiled. "Well, it's good that you keep playing if you still love it," he told him. "Your age shouldn't stop you."

I cleared my throat to tell them that I was in the room. They hadn't even seen me standing there. "Should we get going, Mark?" I asked. "Don't you have some kind of hockey tomorrow?"

Mark glanced up at the clock on the wall, which read that it was half past ten. "Oh, yeah, I guess you're right. We should." He turned to my dad again. "It was really nice of you to show me your pictures and everything, David."

Dad beamed, holding out his hand. "It was very good to meet you, Mark. I hope you'll be back soon."

They shook, very businesslike, and after Mark said goodbye to my mom and Wade, we left. As we walked to the car, I grinned at Mark. "I think it's safe to say that they love you more than they love me."

He shrugged. "Parents like me. I don't know if I told you, but they're kind of my thing. Usually the parents like me more than the girl does."

I laughed at him. "Well, that's probably why you were single."

"I get it. You're jealous that your parents _love _me, and only me. And possibly Wade."

I whacked the back of Mark's legs with my purse. "Get in the car, Johnson."

As we were driving, I noticed Mark staring at me. "What?"

He shook his head. "It's not fair," he said simply, turning back to look at the road.

I frowned. "What isn't fair?"

"Well, I told you all about all the girls I've slept with, but you conveniently didn't tell me about yours, Vic. How is that fair?"

"Are you serious?" I gave him a long look. "Do you actually want to know?"

Mark shrugged. "Well, sure. How many did you say there were?"

"Six," I told him. "But wait just a second. You didn't finish telling me about yours. Remember? You were on number six when we had to stop talking."

"Oh, that's right. The other two weren't really that important."

I snorted. "Really? That's the kind of thing that you keep to yourself around your girlfriend, Mark."

He laughed. "Hey now. I'm just being honest. Anyway, that's the end of my list. Who were your five?"

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. "Well, the first one was this guy named Alexander. I was a freshman, and he was a really smooth talker and an even better actor. We were at a party, and—keep in mind, this was my first _ever _high school party, so I was pretty out of it. He convinced me that we were going to date, as soon as he broke up with his girlfriend to get me to sleep with him."

"And did you end up dating?"

I shook my head. "Nope. I found out the next week that he didn't even have a girlfriend, and after that, he never talked to me again, which was nice."

Mark shook his head. "That would be hard. I hate guys like that."

I shrugged. "It was a big deal then. It blew my mind that someone could just fake feelings the way he did and then just pretend that nothing had happened at all. But of course, I'm over it now. I mean, he was a kid, and so was I. I didn't get that he was only after the one thing."

He continued to shake his head. "I'd feel bad if I was him. Anyway. Who was the next one?"

"The next one was Alexander's best friend, Ben," I said. "This was about four months after what happened with Alexander, and Ben just sort of started being really nice to me at school, and towards the end of the year he asked me to come out to his cabin at the lake, and things just sort of went from there."

"Was he only with you for the same reasons as the first guy?"

"Oh, probably. I never really found out, though. We sort of lost track of each other over the summer, and by the time school started up again, he'd changed into an obnoxious jerk so we didn't really talk anymore."

"So you were starting your sophomore year by then?"

"Right. And I decided that if I was going to have sex again, it'd have to be with someone who I was actually dating or someone that I was sure cared about me."

"Okay. So was the next one with a boyfriend?"

I sighed. "I hate talking about this. No, it wasn't. It was a guy from Duluth who was here visiting my friend Holly. This guy was actually in university, so he was a step up... At least in my mind he was."

"What was his name?"

"I... don't actually remember," I said, grimacing. "I don't even remember it happening, but I guess it did. Anyway, he was gone in the morning so I never got a chance to talk to him."

Mark shook his head yet again. "I know," I said before he could say anything. "I know. I had a bit of a reputation by then, so I made a point to avoid alcohol after that. A lot of people said that all a person had to do was give me a drink or two and they could get in my pants without a problem."

Mark didn't say anything.

"What?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just kind of feel guilty about all of us pressuring you to drink as much as you did that night in Colorado now. "

I rolled my eyes at him. "Oh, God. Don't worry about that. I knew what I was doing."

"Well, no. You tried to start stuff with me that night, remember? If I'd have been anyone else, something might have happened."

"So just be happy that I didn't leave with anyone else that night," I said, elbowing him. "Seriously, lighten up. It's not a big deal."

Mark shook his head, looking like he was trying to clear the thought from his head. "Okay. I'm lightened up. Who was next?"

"Next came Paul. He was actually my boyfriend at that time. I had been extremely good all school year, and at the end of it, I got together with him and we had a cute little summer romance. We might have even continued it into the next school year, but he moved to Nebraska, and that was the end of it. I actually really liked Paul," I said thoughtfully. "I wonder where he is now?"

Mark was ogling me from the passenger seat. "Are you serious?"

I laughed, whacking his arm. "No, I'm not serious. Come on, Johnson. Anyway, what are we at right now?"

"Four."

"Okay. So, five was my next boyfriend, Scott. We were actually together until last year, so I did I pretty good job with him."

"What happened?"

I shrugged. "Life, I guess. He wanted to get married and stuff, but I thought it'd be a better idea to go to school and get a job before we did that. I didn't really see it lasting forever, anyway."

Mark frowned. "How was that?"

"Well, I don't know. You spend enough time with someone, and if you start to get annoyed with the way they do certain things, they're probably not the person that you want to spend the rest of your life with, you know? I just couldn't see that happening."

"I guess that makes sense. So, who was number six?"

"Number six was this guy named Isaac Bailey."

"Who was he?"

"He was Terry's friend. He wasn't really my type; he was sort of a loser, but he was just sort of... around when Scott and I broke up, so I decided that he was exactly what I needed. Or, I guess Terry decided."

"So he was just another one night stand?"

I shook my head. "Oh no no, Mark. Isaac and I actually went out for four months before I wised up. After that, I just sort of decided that I was going to stay away from guys for a while, which brings us to right now."

Mark made a "huh" sound and was quiet.

He didn't say anything until I turned down his street. "Do you regret any of them?"

I shrugged. "I guess I could say the first few were all kind of slip ups, but there's nothing I can do about it now. I mean, if those things hadn't have happened, I wouldn't know the things about guys that I know now. I probably would have found it all out sooner or later, but it helped, knowing it when I was younger."

Mark made another sound and didn't say anything.

"Why?"

"Just wondering. I was just thinking that if it ever got to that point with us, I don't want to be the one that you regret."

I didn't really know what to say to him. "Well, hopefully it doesn't end that way, right?"

He nodded. "I just don't want to have you say to some guy one day that number seven was a chump named Mark Johnson who you dated for a bit while he played hockey in Minneapolis."

"I never say the word 'chump', though."

"I'm serious, Vic."

I pulled in front of Mark's building and we sat there silently for a moment while I searched for something to say. "Well, if we work hard enough, maybe it won't go any further than seven."

Mark looked over at me, a strange look on his face.

"I know how weird that sounds at this point, but you never know, right? You're not planning on dumping me tonight, are you?"

"No."

"Well, all I'm saying is that if we work really hard to make this last, I'll never have to describe a chump named Mark Johnson to anyone but you."

Mark chuckled and leaned in, resting his forehead against mine. "You really have a way with words, you know that?"

I shrugged, smiling at him. "I guess I believe you."

He pressed me against my door and kissed me, scooting closer over the seat. I pulled him closer and sighed, feeling his hand running up my back. Before I knew what was happening, we had rearranged ourselves so he was lying on top of me on the seat.

I had no idea how far I was going to let it go, but luckily for me, Mark abruptly stopped kissing me and let his hands drop. "What are we doing?" he whispered.

"Do you want the scientific term?"

He grinned at me. "I don't know. I just think that this is a bad idea right now."

I messed up his hair. "You have remarkable restraint, you know that? Why do you think this is such a bad idea?"

"No, don't get me wrong," Mark began quickly, "I think that this in general," he gestured around us awkwardly, "is a _great_ idea. I just don't think it's the best thing for us to be doing tonight."

"Again, why?"

"I think that all of this talking about sex has gotten us both in the mood, to be honest," he said, grinning again when I started laughing. "I'm serious. If it was any other night, you'd probably agree with me. We have to be responsible or we'll end up regretting it and that whole talk we just had will have been pointless. I just think that this is something for another time." He paused, looking around us. "And place."

I grinned at him. "What's wrong with my car?"

He shook his head, laughing. "Oh, no. It's definitely not your car. I'm all for the classiness that comes with sex in a car. It's just the fact that I'm right outside where I live right now, and we could easily just go inside, and also one of the guys could walk by at any moment and see us."

I craned my neck to look around. "You're right. They could be watching us right now. You should get off of me before someone calls the cops or something."

"Of course." He scrambled off of me and back onto the passenger seat. "I should probably go in, anyway. It's getting sort of late."

"Alright," I told him. "I'm guessing you have practice tomorrow?"

Mark nodded. "You bet. You should bring Wade and come watch for a bit if you want."

"I'll ask him and see what he's doing," I told him. "But chances are, he'll dump any plans that he _does_ have and jump at the chance to watch you guys again."

"That's what I like to hear," Mark said, grinning. "Now, if I could get that same enthusiasm out of you..."

"Hey now!—"

He held up his hands. "Just kidding, settle down. Look, I should really go." He leaned back over to kiss me again. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay. I'll call you when I figure out what we're doing."

"Sounds good. Drive safely."

I shook my head as I was driving home. I had, before tonight, thought about the things that had made Mark different from other guys I'd been with. It was funny to me that one night made me realize exactly what those things were. Most guys, in my experience with them, were only after one thing. Mark was the exception to this rule. He _was_ different, but I didn't mind. If different meant that he was almost unreasonably good with my parents, respectful, smart and responsible, well, I thought, different might be exactly what I liked.


	25. Chapter 25

**Wow, how about that. This is the first time I haven't wasted a month doing other things instead of updating this ol' girl. High fives are always welcome. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I'm really glad to know you guys enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you like this one, too! :) **

* * *

"I think I might buy you something nice when I'm in Norway," Mark said, brushing some stray hairs from my forehead to behind my ear.

I laughed. "How many guys can honestly say that to someone? 'I'll get you something when I'm in Norway'. How you can be so nonchalant about it is beyond me."

Mark shrugged. "Yeah, well, not too many guys are playing for the Olympic hockey team, remember? That makes me exceptional."

I elbowed him in the ribs. "Yeah yeah. You're the best."

Mark had been almost unbelievably busy over the last month, and it was nearly impossible for us to spend time together. For example, on this particular night, he was only able to stay at the apartment for a few hours before he had to go back to his place to pack for the team's three-day trip to Norway on the weekend. I was doing my very best not to be bitter about the whole thing—because what was the point of having a boyfriend if you never got to see him?—and I wished then that Mark was good at something more local, such as fishing. Or checkers. Or maybe speed reading.

"Three days isn't even that long, when you think about it," Mark was saying, almost as if he was sensing that I was definitely thinking about it.

"It's seventy-two hours," I told him. "That sure seems like a long time."

"Yeah, I guess, but, I mean, you won't even be awake for all of those hours. It'd only be that long if you didn't sleep for that entire time. If you sleep for eight hours every night, it's actually almost like two days."

I shrugged. I was being pouty and miserable and I hated myself for it. I knew it was selfish to wish that he wasn't going to leave, but what did I expect? I knew what I was getting myself into when I started dating him.

"And you know that I'd call you, too, but I guess we're on a tight budget out there." He laughed quietly to himself and bumped his shoulder against mine. "Hey, I can send you a letter if you want. But I'd get back here before it did." I didn't say anything. "Vic?"

I looked up. "Huh?"

He grinned at me. "I just made a joke, hon. It was pretty bad, but I at least expected you to laugh a little. Come on, are you going to be crusty the night before I leave... _for three whole days_?"

Shaking my head, I sat up a little straighter on my couch. "No. I'm sorry. I just hate when you leave—for any amount of time. I don't know what to do with myself when you're not around. How sad is that?"

"Pretty sad."

I whacked him with the back of my hand. "Shut up."

Mark caught my hand as I was bringing it back and kissed it. "Sorry. You know I miss you too, right? There's basically no one else in this whole city that I can just sit with and have them hit me for hours on end. It's something I only get from you."

I smiled a little. "You know, you almost said something pretty nice there, but you just had to go and ruin it, didn't you?"

He shrugged again and put an arm around me. "I don't need to be serious for you to know how I feel about you. Anyway, being poetic isn't really my thing."

"Tell me about it."

"I'd rather not. Besides, it looks like it's almost time for me to head out." He got to his feet deliberately before turning and looking at me expectantly. "Are you going to walk me to your door?"

I slumped into the couch, the backs of my eyes burning. Don't cry, I told myself furiously. You never cry when he leaves. And besides, it's only three days. The moment I thought that to myself the tears spilled out and down my face. Mark looked almost alarmed for a second before he leaned forward, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet. "Hey hey hey," he said softly, pushing a finger up my cheek, forcing a tear back up toward my eye. "None of that, alright? It's going to be fine. Just sleep for three straight days, and I'll be back before you know it."

I let out a watery chuckle. "Very funny. You should give up hockey and start doing stand-up."

Mark smiled, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into his chest. "Seriously, though. It's not nearly as long as you think it is. I promise I'll buy you some nice Norwegian gift mug or something. And it's not like you don't have anything to keep you busy, right? You have that guy's Christmas party to go to tomorrow night. I'm sure that'll be... fun."

He meant the Christmas part that Perry had invited me to. I looked up into his face. "Are you sure it's alright that I go to that?"

He shrugged. "You bet. I'm not going to be that kind of guy who makes you stay home when I'm not around. I hate that guy. Besides, I trust you. You say that guy is just your creepy friend, and I believe you."

I nodded. "He is. You're the only one I want to be with."

Mark smiled down at me. "Good to hear. But look. I really have to go. Promise me you won't start crying again?"

I raised my right hand. "Scout's honor."

He grabbed my hand and kissed it again. "I doubt you were ever a scout, but I guess that works. I'll see you when I get back, alright?"

"Alright," I said, misting up again as he pulled me close and kissed me. "Good luck out there. I'll miss you."

Mark gave me an even smile. "I'll miss you too. I always do." And he left.

I stood near the doorway for a while, half-expecting him to burst back in, laughing and telling me that he was only joking, that he didn't have to go to Norway at all, and he'd rather stay behind with me. He didn't, and I felt embarrassed with myself for hoping that he would. I knew that no matter how much Mark apparently cared about me, hockey always came first. The harsh reality of it made me back away from the door and return to the couch, shaking my head. How had I found myself in this situation? I knew that if it ever came down to a choice between me or hockey, Mark would, to the best of my knowledge, choose hockey. The fact that I'd let myself fall into this position was even more upsetting than the situation itself. Even if, by some miraculous twist of fate, Mark and I had a future together, it would always be the situation that I was in at that moment. Mark would be leaving, and I'd have to stay behind to tend to the chores or the kids or whatever else. The perfect little housewife.

I wanted to call Mark at that moment. I wanted to call him and tell him, in no uncertain terms, that I wasn't prepared to become that person. I didn't want to be the kind of woman—or wife, if the future held that—that he could just leave and then return to, expecting everything to be fine. I didn't want to have to deal with him being away all the time, worrying if he was alright, and being cautious and jealous of every other woman I saw him with. I knew about the girls who "specialized" in hockey players; "puck bunnies", as Wade called them, and ever since he'd told me about them, they'd been one of my biggest fears. I couldn't compete with girls like that, and hopefully Mark knew that too. What I needed at that moment was someone I could talk to about this. I needed someone who would listen, no matter how ridiculous I was being, and then inform me that I was being, in fact, ridiculous. What I needed was Mark. However, I knew for a fact that he'd just left, so he was nowhere near home.

Perry picked up after about four or five rings, as if he was taking a long time to answer the phone on purpose to piss me off. "Hello?"

"Perry? Hey. Victoria here. How are you?"

"I'm alright," Perry said slowly. "What about you? Feeling okay?"

I thought about it. "I'm fine," I told him.

"Okay." There was a long silence. "Any particular reason why you're calling, or...?"

Remembering fondly the days when I wasn't crazy and it was me who was confused by Perry, I shook my head. "No. Well, yeah, kind of."

Another long silence followed before Perry said, "I can't be the only one here who's not completely confused by this conversation. Should I know what's going on?"

"Nuh-uh," I said, shaking my head furiously. "No, you shouldn't. It's just... I called you before I could really sort out what I'm feeling, and now I'm starting to feel stupid about it."

"Oh, yeah? What happened?"

I told him about it, the whole, longwinded and ridiculous story, and when I had finished, Perry didn't say anything. "Perry? Are you still there?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here," he said vaguely. "Before we talk about this, I have a question for you."

"Alright. Shoot."

"Okay. So, I've been noticing recently that you seem to be coming to me when you have issues with your boyfriend. There was that one time when you thought it was my fault that he was insecure, and now. It also seems like you go out of your way to talk about him most of the time, just so we can be talking about him. Am I being fair in saying all of this?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Good. Now, my question for you is why. Am I your new gal pal?"

The ridiculousness of the question made me snort. "No, Perry, you're not."

"Think hard before you answer me. I mean, did you even think a little bit before you called me with this ridiculous issue?"

I was a little offended, but then I remembered that I had wanted someone to tell me that my problem was ridiculous. "Well, no. Not really."

"Well, I don't really feel comfortable talking about these kinds of things with you."

At first I sort of thought Perry was joking. "Seriously? Why? I thought we were friends."

"No, don't get me wrong; we are. It's just me, I guess. I don't feel right giving the girl I'm interested in advice about how to deal with her boyfriend."

"Wait wait wait. Did you just say that you were interested in me? Do you mean romantically?"

Perry made a noise of disbelief. "I didn't say that I _was_ interested in you. I _am_, Victoria. Are you being serious right now? Did you actually not know that?"

All along, I'd sort of thought that Perry was just being overly nice, and the fact that he made weird little advances on me was just an issue in his personality. "Well, no, not really. I just thought you were trying to be funny."

Suddenly I heard laughing on the other end. A few seconds later, Perry said, breathless with laughter, "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard! How could you have thought that, Victoria? And to think I've been putting myself out there all this time. I don't know how I could have been any more obvious!"

"Wait wait. Are you telling me that your whole 'stalker crazy maybe one day I'll kidnap you and lock you in the basement' routine... that was actually you flirting with me?"

"Well, I said it before; it actually works with a lot of girls. Usually girls like getting attention. You must just be a little off or something."

I laughed loudly into the phone. "You come on a little strong, Perry. Maybe take it easy next time."

"I'll remember that," he said, "I'll try that out on you tomorrow at the Christmas party. Are you excited yet?"

"Oh, you'd better believe it," I told him. "I love Christmas parties."

"Yeah, well, you'd better keep an eye open for mistletoe. If I catch you under some, I'll kidnap you and lock you in my basement."

"Happy holidays," I said, and he laughed. "Anyway, gal pal, if I remember correctly, I called you for a specific reason."

"That's right," Perry said. "Girl talk. Alright. Well, what do you want me to say?"

I thought about it. "Well, I think I want you to tell me what you think about the feeling that I had."

"I don't completely understand what you meant, though," he told me. "Explain it. Are you concerned about him leaving and forgetting about you?"

"Well, no. Or yes. I don't even know, really. I just don't like him leaving all the time, you know? I think that it's going to wreck things between us."

"Him leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Well, you probably knew that he'd be gone a lot when you started dating him, didn't you? I mean, you're not going to go out with someone unless you have the slightest idea that it's going to work, right?"

"Right..." I said slowly,

"So then what are you worrying about? It seems to me like you just feel... useless, for lack of a better word, when he's not around. The simple solution to that is to get out of your apartment, Victoria. Go see your parents. Give me a call. _Do something_. It's not going to make him come back faster to sit on your ass and cry because he's not there."

"Perry?"

"Hmm?"

"We need to teach all girls how to girl talk the way you do. That's extremely helpful advice."

Perry chuckled. "Thanks. I thought so, too. Anyway, he's only gone for a few days, right? It'll go by a lot faster if you're busy for that whole time."

"You're right. Thanks, Perry. It's too bad that you're not comfortable talking about stuff like this with me. I'd be calling you almost every hour, on the hour."

"Lucky me," Perry said. "Look, I have to get going. Alan wants to use the phone. I'll see you tomorrow night, okay?"

"Sounds good. Thanks again."

"Not a problem. Goodnight, Victoria."


	26. Chapter 26

**Wooo, so guess what? August kicked my ass. My computer decided that it was time for a new hard drive, and I've been waiting for that to figure itself out since the end of July. That, coupled with the ridiculousness of getting ready to go to university for the first time... gah. But. You didn't come here to read me whining. Hopefully you came for the chapter. Hopefully. Thanks to anyone who reviewed the last one, and I hope you enjoy this one! :) **

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The next night, I heard Perry honk the horn outside of my building at around eight. Throwing my coat on, I ran outside to meet him. As I opened the door to Perry's truck, I noticed a tie discarded sloppily on my side of the seat. I picked it up as I got in. "Need this?"

Perry glanced at the tie. "Oh, yeah. I was hoping that you'd know how to tie it. Alan said it was crooked and untied it. The only problem with that was that he couldn't get it tied up again."

I laughed and examined it. "I can tie ties. Should I do it for you now?"

He shook his head. "I was running late because of that stupid thing. Can you just tie it on yourself? I'll put it on when we get there."

"Alright." I looped the tie around my neck. As Perry stopped at a red light, I pulled the thinner end so it was closer to my face. "Here, look, so you know how to do it for future reference."

Perry turned to look, and I slowly started to tie it. "See, now you cross them like this, and pull the bigger one back over to the other side, and then bring it back again. And then it goes up and through the loop, and then through this one..." I pulled it tight and dropped it against my chest.

The light turned green. "That was amazing," Perry said. "I might have to keep you around just to have you do that for me."

I laughed. "You're welcome."

We talked a little while he drove, and soon enough, we were at Athena's. Perry quickly ran around the truck to help me out and held an arm out gallantly, grinning broadly at me. "I don't think I ever said anything before, but thanks for coming. It's really nice of you."

"It's not a problem," I said, shrugging. "It's not like I have a whole lot to do, anyway."

"Well, well, well." Perry grinned at me as I linked my arm in his. "This is starting to seem more and more like a pity date to me."

I elbowed him. "It's not a date. You're just taking me as your... companion. To this party."

Perry straightened up. "That's right. You and I are companions. I'll have to remember that. I was kind of hoping that you would say that you were my escort."

"Why?"

"Because of the whole... other meaning of that word. You know, like the ones that you find in the back of dirty magazines."

I frowned at him. "Come on. Really? I thought you were done being creepy, Perry."

He laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry."

We reached the door and he pulled it open, holding it for me to enter the building first. Athena's actually looked fairly nice, all spruced up for Christmas. There were strings of garland hanging from around the counters, and lights twinkled from various places throughout the room. Every table was covered with dark red cloths, and candles which flickered in the dimmed lights. A tall, heavily decorated tree glimmered from the back of the room. There were quite a few people there; a few of them turned and greeted Perry as we walked in. One guy walked right up to us and clapped Perry on the back.

"Hey there, buddy," he said, a slight slur to his words, "I was hoping you'd show up. I still can't believe that Andre told you that you could still come. That's, like, amazing or something."

"You bet it is," Perry told him. "Now, where's that gorgeous girlfriend of yours? I need to introduce her to my gorgeous companion, here."

"Oh, Sarah? Man, can you believe her? I told her about this stupid thing four weeks ago, and today she tells me that she can't go; she's got to go help her friend move out of her apartment. I swear, man, sometimes..."

What happened sometimes, Perry and I never found out, because the guy abruptly turned and walked away from us. I turned to him, my eyebrows raised. "Friend of yours?"

"He thinks so. He also thinks that he doesn't have a drinking problem." Perry grinned. "Come on, I'll introduce you to some interesting people." He tugged my arm to make me follow him further into the room. Various people greeted Perry and he grinned back at them as he pulled me through the crowded room. We passed Andre, the manager of the restaurant, who gave Perry a steely look from over the top of his glass. Perry, who had apparently not noticed, grabbed two glasses from a nearby tray, handing one to me before we continued to walk. I sipped it, finding that it was just soda.

"Victoria?" I stopped abruptly when I heard someone say my name, craning my neck to see who it was. My jaw dropped when I saw. Scott Walker, my old boyfriend, was walking through the crowd, looking as if he had every intention of coming over to talk to me. Perry, who had tugged on my arm for a moment after I had stopped walking as if I were a stubborn dog, returned to my side and watched Scott approach.

"Run?" he murmured out of the corner of his mouth and I shook my head fervently.

Scott reached us and stood there, apparently unsure of what to say. "Hi," he finally said, rubbing a hand along the back of his head. He'd cut his hair since the last time I'd seen him. All of his thick, dark hair had been shorn off. I barely recognized him.

"Hi," I replied quietly.

"Hello," said Perry. Scott gave him a shortest of glances before turning back to me.

"How are you?" He was giving me an odd look, one that I remembered fairly well. Scott always used to give me that same look when he thought I was doing something stupid. As far as I could tell then, I wasn't doing anything too terrible. But I'd been wrong before, of course.

"I'm alright," I told him, nodding my head strangely before I realized that I was doing it.

"Great," he said, nodding too.

Out of the corner of my eye I could see Perry looking back and forth at us. "This is my friend Perry," I said, gesturing at him. Perry gave Scott an awkward chin nod.

"Hey," Scott said, returning the awkward nod. "So, are you working here now?" He turned his attention back to me, still giving me that odd look.

I shook my head. "Perry works here. I'm here as his... companion," I finished, and then shook my head disgustedly, hearing Perry snort with laughter beside me. "How about you?"

"Oh, my fiancée started working here in October. Cynthia. She should be around here somewhere..." He continued to talk, but I didn't really hear anything. Fiancé. _Fiancé. _Jesus. How was it that he was engaged _already?_ It didn't bother me that he was, but... well, yes. It bothered me that he was engaged. Of course it did. We had just broken up last year. But then again, he had always said that he wanted to get married and get started on a family, and I was against that, so the fact that I was choked that he was doing what he wanted made me kind of a queen bitch, didn't it? Scott continued saying things, and I nodded, but I could barely hear him over the flurry of ridiculous voices in my head.

Perry sharply dug an elbow in my side and brought me back to Earth. "_What_?" I said, glaring over at him. He jerked his chin in Scott's direction, and I saw that he was beckoning someone over, to my horror.

"There you are, babe," Scott said, wrapping his arm around the waist of his blonde, supermodel-esque fiancée. "I have someone that I want you to meet. Cynthia, this is Victoria, an old friend of mine."

An old friend. How about that. "Nice to meet you, hon," Cynthia said, holding out a hand for me to shake.

"You too," I said in a voice that didn't sound like mine, pumping her bony hand up and down.

"It's so nice to meet some of the people that Scotty knows," Cynthia chirped, whacking Scott in the chest with the back of her hand. "I'm from Florida, so I don't really know anyone here. You'll have to tell me some embarrassing stories about him so we can make him uncomfortable, huh?"

I nodded, giving her a crusty smile, thinking that I had _plenty _of stories about Scott that would make him absolutely uncomfortable, but they would most likely make her feel just as bad. Like that one time when we went out ice fishing and Scott fell through the ice, and he had to take all of his clothes off to stay warm, and we ended up finding a more effective way of doing that. Or the time when Scott told me that he wanted nothing to do with any other girl in the world. I kept my mouth shut, because I had a feeling that those kinds of stories were a real mood-killer when you were talking to your ex-boyfriend's future wife. I gave Scott a winning smile and told her in my brightest voice, "You know, I just can't think of any off the top of my head just now."

Cynthia looked mildly disappointed, but then gave me another dazzling grin. "Well, you'll just have to think of some soon." She turned her attention to Perry. "I don't remember working with you."

Perry, who had been looking in the opposite direction, returned abruptly to the conversation. He gave Cynthia a politely blank look. "Sorry?"

"I just said that I don't remember ever working with you."

"Oh," Perry said, grinning at her. "Well, I haven't worked here since about October. Andre just let me come back for this because I'd already bought my tickets."

Cynthia nodded, giving the illusion of actually being interested. Maybe she was actually a genuinely nice person and didn't need to pretend to be interested in the things that people said. She turned back to me, still smiling. "So, how long have you two been together?"

Perry, who had just tipped his glass to take a drink, spit his mouthful back out abruptly and stood there for a moment, coughing. I thumped him roughly on the back and he straightened up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathing heavily and grinning widely at me. People were staring.

"We're actually not together," I said, giving Perry a poisonous look. "I'm just his friend."

Scott, with one last bewildered glance at Perry, gave my face a searching stare. "So, you're not seeing anyone?"

I thought it was sort of odd that he said that. I didn't answer at first; I just stared at him. He stared back. I had a feeling that Perry and Cynthia were probably both very confused by how we were acting. "Actually, yeah," I told him after a while. "He's in Europe right now." I didn't need to add that; I just thought it sounded kind of good.

Scott didn't seem to believe me; he looked over at Perry for confirmation. Perry nodded impressively and Scott turned back to me. "What's he doing in Europe? Working?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No. Well, sort of. He's playing hockey there."

"Playing hockey is his job?"

"It is right now. He's going to be in the Olympics."

"Really," Cynthia chirped. "On the hockey team?"

I nodded. "Wow," Scott said. "That's impressive. How did you meet him?"

I made a non-committal motion with my hands. "Oh, you know. Just ran into him a few times." I didn't think that telling them that I'd met him one drunken night in Colorado would be add to the impressiveness of what I was saying.

They nodded in unison. "Awesome," Cynthia said, and Scott continued to nod his agreement.

"We should get going, though," Perry said, and I could have kissed him. "I need to introduce you to a few people."

"Oh, alright," I said, nodding at him. "It was really nice to see you, Scott. And to meet you, Cynthia."

"You too, sweetheart," Cynthia said, scrambling to reach into her purse. "Can I give you my number? Maybe we can get together and go for coffee or something."

"Sure."

Cynthia ripped a receipt in half and handed me a piece of it, along with a pen. "Write yours down, too."

I did, grudgingly, all hopes of being too busy to call for the rest of my life dashed. After that, we said goodbye and parted ways.

"So," Perry said when we were a safe distance away. "Did you know that guy or something?"

"Shut up," I said, whacking him with the back of my hand. "That was my ex."

"Ooh, intrigue," he said, elbowing me. "Why so awkward?"

I looked at him. "Seriously? How can you not be awkward around an ex and his fiancée?"

Perry shrugged. "I don't know. You just... don't be awkward."

"You," I pointed at him to clarify, "were awkward."

"I was awkward because you were being awkward."

"Shut up."

He did, but only for a second. "Do you want to go?"

"You mean, like, leave?"

"Yeah."

I shook my head. "Don't be dumb. This is your thing; we're going to stay as long as you want to."

Perry nodded absently. "Well, you know, I don't want to be here if you don't. It was important to me that you came, so I don't want you to be miserable. You being miserable is making everyone else miserable." I gave him a long look. "So, you know, smarten up. You're ruining the night."

I made a disgusted sound and crossed my arms. "What is it with you men? You start saying something marginally sweet, and then you ruin it by trying to be funny."

He shrugged. "Sorry, I guess. But, seriously, though. Do you want to leave?"

"No, I don't. We don't have to talk to them, I guess. You can introduce me to some people, if you want."

We spent the rest of the night talking to Perry's ex-colleagues and avoiding Scott and Cynthia. It wasn't too hard; they seemed like they were trying to stay away from us as well. I hated to admit it, but I actually had a really nice night with Perry, and I barely had time to miss Mark. He was right; when I got out and _did_ something, it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd thought.

Perry and I walked out of the restaurant just after midnight. It had started to snow again, stray flakes falling on my nose as we walked to his truck. I'd had a few drinks, and I took a few wobbly steps before slipping on a wayward patch of ice and lost my balance. Perry grabbed my elbow and steadied me, shaking his head.

I laughed. "Sorry," I said. "Where do you put your alcohol? You must drink a lot. I saw you with more drinks than I had all night, and you seem fine. You must be one bad nineteen year-old."

He frowned. "I didn't drink. I _don't_ drink. For one, it's illegal for me to drink, let alone drink and drive. Also, I just don't drink."

I made a sceptical sound. "Shut up. I know for a fact that you drink, Perry."

"I don't, actually. My parents told me that if I didn't touch it until I was seventeen, they'd buy me a brand new vehicle."

"But after you were seventeen, though. And you live with your brother."

Perry shrugged, helping me up into the truck. "Yeah, well, Alan wasn't quite as good at getting free vehicles as I am, I guess. I don't know what to tell you. But after I got the truck, I just didn't feel the need to drink. I can have fun and not drink."

"So can I," I said tetchily. "I just drank tonight because I thought you were drinking. Why didn't you tell me that before?"

He laughed. "Why would you think they'd let me drink at a company Christmas party? I'm only nineteen, you know."

It started to make sense to me, and I felt stupid. "Stupid," I said, and Perry chuckled, closing the door gently and running around to the other side to get in.

"Don't go telling Johnson that I went out and got you all liquored up, alright? I don't want him showing up at my house and kicking my ass."

"He's in Europe," I said sleepily. "He wouldn't come all the way back to kick your ass."

"No, I mean..." Perry trailed off and looked over at me. "Seriously? How much did you actually have to drink?"

I waved a hand at him. "I was just joking. Don't even worry about it."

We pulled up to my apartment building a few minutes later, and we just sat there for a moment, talking.

"Well, thanks for coming," Perry said. "I'm really glad I invited you."

"Yeah, me too. Thanks for asking me. We'll have to do this again sometime."

"What, date?"

I snorted. "No, I meant... Well, yeah. I guess that's what I meant. But not really at the same time."

He shook his head. "Yeah, alright. I think it's almost time for you to go to bed, superstar."

"I'm not a superstar. I'm _dating_ one."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, laughing. "Do you need help getting inside?"

"No, I should be good. If I get lost I'll give you a call." I reached for the door. "I had fun tonight. This was nice."

"I thought so, too. I'll see you around, Victoria."

I hopped out of the truck and waved. He waved back but didn't drive away, so I turned and walked towards the building. After I let myself in, I turned to look again and was surprised to still see him there. Only when I got up to my apartment, turned on the light and went to the window to check did Perry drive away, honking the horn as he went.

**Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you thought! :) Enjoy the rest of your week! **


	27. Chapter 27

**Hey, so, if it's not already clear, I definitely will not be finishing this up before the summer ends. Missing August really finished me and my ambition off. ****Technically, it's over right now, so mission not accomplished, pal. Christmas is the new, less upsetting deadline that I've set for myself. Hopefully I'll be able to handle that. And if not... well, you and I will both have to deal with it. Promise me you won't be mad. :) I haven't done personal review responses for a while, so let's do that: **

**Birdcrap - What's up, new reviewer? Thanks for reading and for the luck, I really appreciate it. I'm actually glad that you like Perry. He's one of my favourite people to write, and it's just way too bad that no one else seems to like him. There's gonna be more of him in Chapter 28. I think. I haven't really done a lot of it yet. You're just gonna have to read on and see! Wow, anyway. Enjoy this next chapter. :) **

**LTJM - Thanks for the review, and I'm really glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Oooh, I dunno. We'll have to see if they run into Scott again. It's a mystery. **

The next month passed fairly slowly, what with the fact that I still hadn't found myself a job, and that Mark was so busy that it made me exhausted to even think about it. We rarely saw each other, but we spoke on the phone more than teenage girls.

"So, what are you doing?" Mark asked me one night as I was biting into the abysmal sandwich that I'd made myself for dinner.

"Eating," I said around a mouthful of food. Mark didn't say anything. I swallowed my mouthful. "Eating," I repeated. "Sorry. What about you?"

"I was thinking about taking a bath. My hip is killing me."

"Oh? Why, what happened?"

"I fell on it funny today at practice and it's just sort of sore. Don't worry about it."

He knew I would, though. I got to as many practices as I could, but when I didn't all I could see in my mind's eye was Mark getting thrown around by his teammates. Why I thought that, I would never be able to explain. I found myself worrying about him more than I worried about myself, and it bothered me. Our conversations consisted of, more than anything, Mark reassuring me that he was fine. Of course, I understood that hockey was a rough game and that he was bound to get hit from time to time. Sometimes it just felt better, when I was watching, to close my eyes. I doubted that his hip was "just sort of sore", too. He downplayed everything to avoid making me upset. I was turning into a doting, clingy girlfriend, and was starting to annoy even me.

"So, guess what?" Mark's voice interrupted my thoughts. I must have been quiet for a minute or two.

"What?"

"Our game in Milwaukee was cancelled."

The game that I was supposed to go to, to meet his family. "Oh, no," I said, sounding, I hoped, completely sincere.

"Yeah, I know. But the good news is that I talked to my dad, and his team at the University of Wisconsin has the weekend off, so I think they're going to come here for a few days!"

"Mmm," I said blandly. "To visit?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't that great? You're going to meet them!"

He sounded so excited about it that I started to feel a little bit more eager myself. "Yeah, that _is_ great. I can't wait, Mark."

"They're going to love you, I promise. But yeah, my mom, my dad, my brother and two of my sisters are all coming. They'll be here Friday night, watching the practice on Saturday, and then heading back on Sunday."

"That's great," I said again. "Do they know about me?"

Mark snorted. "Of course they do. How could I not tell them about you?"

"I don't know." I was starting to feel kind of concerned. I didn't think that I was nearly as good with parents as Mark was.

"What's wrong?"

"No, it's nothing. I'm just tired."

He laughed. "You're telling me. Can we just talk tomorrow?"

"Yeah that sounds good," I said, nodding stupidly.

We did talk the next day, and we went over the game plan for the weekend. His parents were going to show up, and I would be meeting them in the rink to watch the practice with them. Then, Mark told me, I would be able to leave. It sort of seemed like he realized how nervous I was about having to handle them all by myself. The night before they came, I phoned Perry for moral support because Mark was at practice.

"See, it's like this," he told me with the air of explaining something very simple to a toddler. "He probably thinks that meeting parents is just something that you're doing because you were so eager to have him meet yours."

"No, no, no," I groaned, the phone in one hand and my forehead in the other. "He was so good with mine. That's the thing. I don't think I'll be as good with parents as he is."

"Now, that's just negative thinking," he said. "Come on. How bad could it be?"

How bad it really could be became apparent the next day when I found myself stuck in traffic, fifteen minutes late for meeting Mark's family at the rink. I craned my neck to try and see if the cars in front of me were moving, trying my very best not to panic. What an amazing first impression. I'd be forever remembered by Mark's parents and siblings as the girl who couldn't be on time.

By the time I got to the rink, I was exactly a half an hour late. I ran through the doors at top speed, waving at Jack O'Callahan, Dave Silk and Bill Baker who were apparently stretching in the lobby ("Hey baby, where's the fire—?"), and into the ice surface part of the rink.

There weren't many people sitting in there, so I prayed that I wouldn't have a hard time finding them. As I started walking around the rink, I heard, "Victoria?" and turned. There were four people sitting in a row of seats, all staring over at me.

"Mark's... family?" I said lamely, beginning to walk slowly over to them. One of the younger women stood up and laughed.

"You don't have to call us that," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Sandi. Come and sit."

I followed her around to the seats and sat down beside her. The other daughter reached across us to shake my hand. "I'm Dawn. It's really nice to finally meet you."

"You too," I told her, and then the two people who I assumed to be Mark's parents stood up. Feeling kind of stupid, I did too.

"Martha," Mark's mom said, leaning over her daughters' ducked heads to give me a hug. "We've heard so many good things about you."

"Yes, we have," Mr. Johnson said, engulfing my hand in his big paw. "Let's hope you can live up to what we've heard." He laughed when I felt a worried expression slide over my face. "I'm only joking. I'm Bob, by the way."

"Hi," I said to them all, sitting back down. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was crazy."

"Thank God you got here before they started practicing," Dawn said, smiling. "Mark probably would have had a panic attack because he didn't see you sitting here with us. He was very explicit in telling us that we were supposed to be nice to you."

I thought about that for a minute. "Were you not going to be before he told you that...?" I asked warily, and they all laughed. But they didn't answer either, so I started to feel a little concerned.

Suddenly, I felt a hand clap on my shoulder. I winced, turning to look at who it was. There was another guy standing there with a baby in his arms. He looked a lot like Mark, only a little bit wider-set. The guy grinned at me. "You're in my spot."

"Oh, sorry."

He whacked me awkwardly on the shoulder again, laughing, and I wondered how he managed to do it while holding onto a baby. "Kidding! Come on." He sat down. "Oh, I'm Peter," he said after a second, holding out his free hand for me to shake. "And this is Scotty. He's Dawn's kid. You've met Dawn, right?" He laughed again when I nodded. "Great. So how's it going?"

I was about to answer when the players started to file out onto the ice. Peter leaned forward in his seat and I assumed that it was alright for me to not reply.

Once again I was surprised by the intensity of the practice. Not that I was any kind of expert on hockey, but it seemed as if the coach was pushing them all a little bit harder than he needed to. None of Mark's family seemed to think so. All of them were sitting in the exact same way, leaning forward with their hands under their chins, and every so often they would all nod in unison. This, I assumed, was what a hockey family looked like. Even the daughters were into it. It kind of made me feel bad to think of the fact that I hadn't been to many of Wade's games this season.

"So, Victoria," Sandi said after a while, when the boys had stopped skating to take a drink. "What have you been up to?"

Thinking that it wouldn't be great to tell Mark's family that I was unemployed and not going to school, I shrugged. "Oh, you know. This and that."

She nodded, smiling. "Sounds like a lot of work. Are you coming to the Games?"

"You mean in February? The Olympics?" They all nodded. "Well, I don't know. Probably not, I mean, it's probably really expensive, and I'm sure it'd be hard to get my hands on tickets and whatnot at this point—"

"No, I mean with us. Didn't Mark tell you? All the players got a certain number of seats reserved for their families. Both me and our other sister, Christine, can't make it, so we told him to ask you to come along. I mean, I guess you'd have to see about getting work off or whatever, but I'm sure Mark would really like you to be there."

I frowned. Why hadn't Mark told me about this? "I'll have to check," I said vaguely. "The whole work thing is... crazy, you know, but we'll see."

She nodded excitedly. "And I heard from Mark that you have a brother who loves hockey, too, so maybe if you wanted to ask him to come..."

Martha suddenly spoke up. "I was talking to the Shotts the other day, and they were saying that Leslie was really interested in going to watch a few games, so I said that maybe we'd see about letting her take one of our passes."

Sandi looked from her mother to me, looking kind of flabbergasted. "Well, I guess not."

I didn't mind. I actually was wondering to myself whether or not this Leslie that Martha had just mentioned was the Leslie that Mark had slept with. The whole thing seemed kind of weird to me. The fact that Mark hadn't mentioned it, coupled with the fact that this girl (who he may or may not have slept with) was possibly coming was making me feel kind of uncomfortable about it.

We finished watching the practice, and then went back to the lobby to wait for Mark. I stood there with them awkwardly, not speaking. I was completely right; I was awful with parents, and as it turned out, siblings, too.

"So, how did you and Mark meet?" Dawn asked politely, bouncing her baby gently in her arms.

"I... Uh, we met through one of the guys on the team. Rob McClanahan."

She nodded slowly. "I'm so glad I'm done with the whole 'dating' bit. I hated that. Mostly because the only guys I'd ever be around were hockey players, and we all know how they can be."

Everyone laughed, and I chuckled heartily with them.

"We're not all the same, though," Peter said, elbowing his sister. "You just had terrible luck picking them."

Dawn shook her head. "I'll bet if all hockey players were like Tim, there wouldn't be a problem with hockey players."

"What's the problem with hockey players?" someone shouted from somewhere behind me and I turned to look. A player that I hadn't met was walking towards the Johnsons, a grin on his face. He politely shook hands with Mark's parents and then hugged Dawn and Sandi before giving Peter a punch on the shoulder.

I felt shunned by this little reunion, so I stood back and watched.

"Have you met Mark's girlfriend, Victoria?" Sandi said after a while, and the player turned to look at me.

"No, actually, I haven't. Mark's been talking about her for a while, though. I'm Bob Suter," he said, walking towards me with a hand extended. "Nice to finally get to meet you."

"You too," I started to say, but I was cut off by someone grabbing me around the stomach and lifting me up.

"Vic!"

I was set back on the ground unceremoniously, rubbing my stomach. "Hey," I said to Phil Verchota and Bah, who had both set their bulging hockey bags on the floor.

"How's it going? I didn't know you were coming to the practice today."

I laughed. "Well, sorry that I didn't call you to tell you I was coming. No, I was just here because I was visiting Mark's family," I said, turning and gesturing at them. "See?"

Both boys stepped forward, hands outstretched, and introduced themselves. I wondered whether or not being polite was something that I missed the lesson on. Everyone else seemed to be so much better at it than I was.

"Hey—Suter," Bah was saying, "I meant to tell you, we're all going down to that bar on the corner tonight for some beers to celebrate our weekend off. You in?"

"Of course," Suter said, nodding excitedly.

"What about you, Vic?" Phil asked, bumping into me with his shoulder. "Gonna come out and cut loose again?"

"Now now," Bah said jokingly. "We don't need another Colorado Springs."

I could have died. All of Mark's family was giving me appraising looks.

"Maybe," I grumbled after a while.

When Mark finally came up from the dressing room, his family swarmed around him and he looked so happy that I decided to just stand at a distance with Bah and Phil (Bob Suter had departed a moment before).

"So?" Bah asked expectantly, raising his eyebrows at me.

"...What?"

"What do you think they thought of you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I was incredibly awkward."

"Why?"

"Well, I don't know. The fact that I'm meeting Mark's parents for the first time probably had something to do with it."

Phil snorted. "I'd be pumped. He wanted you to meet his folks, man. That's gotta mean something."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't know. It doesn't help that you guys made me sound like a dirty drunk when you mentioned Colorado Springs."

"Sorry about that," Bah said, laughing. "I thought about that after I said it. Are you gonna come out and drink with us tonight, though?"

"I said maybe. I don't know what Mark wants to do."

Jack O'Callahan suddenly appeared. "Did you put out that fire under your ass, baby?" he asked loudly, and Mark's family turned to look at me again.

I gritted my teeth. "Yes, thanks."

"OC, tell Vic that she's being dumb."

"Vic, you're being dumb. What'd she do?"

"We asked her if she wanted to come out with us tonight, and she said that she wanted to see what Johnson was doing first."

"Aaw, baby. Come on. Cut the cord, already. His family's here, he'll probably be visiting them tonight. Come out and have some fun with us."

I gave a noncommittal jerk of my head as I saw Mark walking over to us, his family following. "Hi," he said to me. "How are you?"

I shrugged. "Good. Are you sore?"

Mark pointed at his hip and jabbed it with his finger, wincing. "Just this. I should be okay."

"Johnson, can Vic come out with us tonight?"

Mark looked over at Phil. "What am I, her dad?"

"Well, she wanted to see what you were doing before she made plans," Bah explained. "So is it okay if she comes?"

Catching my eye and grinning, Mark replied, "I don't see any reason why not. Where are you guys going?"

"The bar. You're welcome to come too, I guess."

Mark reached over and punched Bah in the shoulder. "I'll see." He looked back over at me. "Are you just going home now?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, probably. Am I going to see you tonight?"

He nodded. "I think so. My mom and dad want to get an early night in before they leave in the morning. And if not, I'll be free all day tomorrow. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Boys, you know what this means?" Bah asked the group, fists clenched in excitement.

"What?"

"_Vic's coming out with us tonight!_" It was going to be a long, long night.

**I dislike this ending. Anyway, review if you liked it, and even if you didn't! Thaaaaaanks. **


	28. Chapter 28

**So. Who's negligent? This guy. Seriously. I'm sorry. I've been ridiculously busy with school and life for the last couple of months. I've only been able to actually sit down and write once since the end of the summer. But, excuses. So. Here's the next update, I hope you like it, and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last one! :) **

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I said goodbye to Mark's family and left. I was fairly sure that Mark's mom looked sort of relieved to see me leaving, but I didn't really get why. I thought I had handled the situation a little better than I had been imagining. Oh well, I thought. Maybe I'll get better with them over time.

As I walked into my apartment later when I got home, the phone was ringing. I scrambled to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Victoria."

"Perry. Hey. How's it going?"

"Oh, not too bad. Just sitting at home. What are you up to tonight?"

I chewed my fingernail. "I was going to go out to a bar with some of my friends."

"Aah," Perry said. "Which bar? Would it be completely rude if I invited myself along?"

I laughed. "No, it wouldn't. You should definitely come if you've got nothing better going on."

"Cool. Which bar?"

I gave him directions and hung up. I sat there a moment later thinking about how possibly stupid what I just did was. If Perry showed up at the bar, the guys would probably think that he was with me. _With_ me. Add to that the fact that Perry wasn't nearly old enough to go into a bar, and I realized that this was not a good situation at all. When I called Perry back, there was no answer.

By the time that evening rolled around, I had tried to call Perry's place four different times, but no one answered. The fifth and final time, just before I left for the bar, Alan answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, can I talk to Per—Uh, Lance, please?"

"No, not really. He's out on a date or somethin', I dunno. Should I tell him you called?"

"That's alright. Thanks."

I hung up the phone and ran to grab my coat. The boys and I had arranged to have Mike Eruzione, the designated driver for the evening, pick me up outside my building. As I was walking outside, a car pulled up and honked on the horn about fourteen times. I hurried over to the car and pulled the door open. "Thanks. I heard you."

Mike grinned at me from the driver's side. "Sorry." He jerked his thumb towards the back seat. "Wasn't me."

At first I didn't see anything, but then I looked closer and saw that it looked like there was something lying on the seat under a blanket. I reached over and prodded the lump hard with my hand. "_Oww..._" It said, and the blanket was thrown back to reveal Dave Silk. "Why?"

I laughed and turned back around.

We reached the bar a few moments later, and I saw a few other guys walking inside as we pulled up. "Did Mark say he was going to come later?" I asked as we got out of the car.

Mike shut his door. "I dunno. He said that he'd see, I think. I didn't get a chance to talk to him before I left."

Silky tripped on the curb on his way onto the sidewalk. "Whatssa matter, Vic? Can't go out without ending up in a hotel room with Joss'n?"

I looked over at Mike, who shrugged. "Pre-drinking."

Silky laughed and clapped me on the back. "You know I'm juss kidding, Vic. It'll be a good night. I can tell these kindsa things."

"Okay," I told him, and followed them inside.

The boys had jammed some tables together so we could all sit around each other, and as soon as we got settled in, girls started walking up.

"Hey, boys." They all turned to look at the speaker, who was a brunette, bombshell type. She gave them a dazzling smile. "My friends over there?" She gestured over her shoulder to point at a table full of girls similar to her, all staring in our direction. "They dared me to come over here and introduce myself. I'm Candy."

"Trashy," OC, who was sitting beside me, muttered so I could hear. I choked back a laugh.

"Sorry, what was that?" Candy was now glaring at me. "What, you feel threatened by me? What's your problem?"

OC sat up straighter. "Hey, _Candy_? Don't get mad at her. She didn't say anything. She was just laughing at what I said."

"And what was that?"

"'Trashy'."

Candy gave us all a fierce look and then disappeared.

Strangely enough, the parade of girls didn't stop after that. Some of them knew the Minnesota boys, and appeared to be "puck bunnies". Bill Baker was a popular choice of a lot of these girls.

"I just can't believe that you're going to play in the Olympics," one girl, who introduced herself as Lois said, putting a hand on Baker's chest. "That must be so… surreal. Are you excited?"

Baker nodded, taking a long drink of his beer. "Want me to score a goal for you?"

Lois looked as if he had just offered to give her a gold brick. "Yes!"

"I definitely will, then, if I score more than one."

"I'm sure you will. Who else are you scoring goals for?" Lois asked in a teasing tone, surreptitiously sliding her chair closer to Baker.

"Just my wife."

Lois walked off without another word.

"You're not married, are you, Baker?" Mike asked after we'd all stopped laughing.

"No way," he replied, shaking his head fervently. "It's just a really good way of dealing with girls like her."

Silky snorted loudly. "Why wouldja ever wanna deal with them? I mean, in a diff'rent way than they want you to?"

Baker shrugged. "I don't like puck bunnies, man. Why would I want to be with someone who only liked me because I play hockey? Fuck that."

Silky slapped his hand on the table. "Fuck that, man. Right. You only deal with classy girls. Like her," he said, pointing over Baker's shoulder to a girl at the bar.

I recognized her. "Oh, for crying out loud," I said, abruptly looking down. OC turned to me, a curious expression on his face.

"What?"

"I know her."

All the guys turned to look at Cynthia, Scott's fiancée. Of course. I ducked my head quickly to avoid her seeing me, but the damage was done. "Victoria!"

I looked up, assuming an expression of great surprise. "Hey!"

She came over, and I felt the guys' eyes on me. "How are you?" she said, hugging me awkwardly around the neck. I caught Silky's eye over her shoulder and he winked at me.

"I'm alright," I told her. "How about you? Is Scott here?" I didn't mean to ask her that. It just slipped out. I felt like a jackass.

Cynthia didn't seem to notice. "No, he's working late tonight," she said, sticking her lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. "So me and my friends over there decided to have a girls night." She pointed proudly at a table full of girls, all of whom were staring in our direction. When she pointed, they all started to laugh and waved.

"Damn," OC said, and grunted as Mike apparently kicked him under the table.

"I should get back to them, though," she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Sounds good," I said.

As she flounced off, all the guys leaned in simultaneously. "Who was that?" Baker asked, glancing interestedly over his shoulder.

"That's my ex's fiancée," I explained, trying to keep my voice down.

"_Your ex fiancée_?"

I shook my head fervently as Cynthia turned to look back in our direction. "_No_," I said. "Shut up. She's _my_ ex boyfriend's_ current_ fiancée. I don't even know her."

"Seems like she knows you," Silky said with a grin.

"I don't. I promise you that I don't."

"You don't what?"

I turned and grinned. Mark was standing there, looking tired. I squished over for him to sit down. "Nothing. You were able to leave?"

Mark nodded, grabbing OC's beer and taking a drink when he wasn't looking. "Yeah," he said after a while. For some reason, he wouldn't meet my eyes. I frowned.

"What's the matter?"

"Yeah, Markie, what's the matter?" jeered Silky from across the table.

Mark looked up. "Nothing. What? No, nothing's wrong. What's the matter with you?"

He wasn't acting normal at all. I stared at him. "Mark-?"

I didn't get a chance to finish my question, because he abruptly got up and approached the bar. Mike stared at me. "What's that all about?"

I watched him walk away. "I don't know. Did he say anything at practice before?"

He shook his head. "No—I mean, I don't think so, anyway. He seemed normal."

So then it must have something to do with his parents, I thought, gazing at him as he ordered a beer, still not looking in my direction, even though he would have had to be stupid to not notice me watching him.

When he returned, he continued to avoid my eyes and although he acted relatively normal, it was like he made a point of not putting an effort into talking to me specifically. After a while of this, I stood up. Mark turned and looked at me for probably the first time.

"I think I'm just going to head home," I said pointedly, turning towards the door. I took three steps before I felt a hand wrap around my wrist. I turned to look at Mark. "Yeah?"

"Don't go. Come on."

"Well, I don't really see any reason why I'd want to stay. I mean, you've been ignoring me from the moment you walked in here, Mark. The only reason why I came out at all tonight was in the off chance that _you'd_ be around, but I guess that just doesn't matter to you."

"No, it does, Vic. It's just… It's hard to explain."

I shook my head at him. "You can't even try? What the hell happened to you?"

Mark itched the back of his head. "Well… I got in sort of an argument with my mom."

My stomach dropped. "About what?" Mark gave me a long, meaningful look. "About me? Why? What'd I do?"

He shrugged dejectedly. "I don't want to talk about it. Look, if you want to go home, that's fine. But I don't want you to."

I stared at him. "You can't possibly expect me to just sit and pretend that everything's good now, Mark. Especially since you won't tell me what your mom's issue was. I'm going to think the absolute worst. I'll just see you around, okay?" I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Cynthia was turned right around in her chair, watching us argue. Great.

"Victoria?"

Oh, Christ. Of course.

Perry walked up beside me and elbowed me lightly. "How's it going?"

"Not great, Perry. Did you drive?"

He nodded seriously. "What's the matter?" He looked over at Mark. "Hey, man. How's it going?"

"Aren't you a little _young_ to be in the bar?" Mark asked coldly.

Perry didn't answer, but turned to me. "Do you want to leave?"

I shrugged, still staring at Mark. "I don't know. Do I?"

Mark stared back at me. "Come on. Do you really want to know?"

I crossed my arms and said nothing. Perry looked back and forth at us, bewildered.

Mark threw his hands up. "You know what? Fine. I'll tell you. But don't even begin to say that it's my fault. And you _wanted_ to know." He took a deep breath. "She said that you seemed a little unfriendly, and that you didn't seem to want to be at the practice. She said that you were late getting there—"

"I was late because of traffic!" I burst out.

He shrugged. "That's just what she said, Vic. You wanted to know."

I didn't say anything. The things Mark said were more or less just misunderstandings on Martha Johnson's part, but the matter-of-fact tone that Mark told me in was what bothered me. It was as if telling me those things was no problem for him, even though he probably knew that none of it was exactly true. He knew that I was just nervous to meet them. "But wait," I said. "You said you got in a fight with her. About what?"

He didn't say anything for a moment. "She said that she didn't want you to come to Lake Placid with my family, because I guess our family friend is going to come now instead, and she just wouldn't listen to me."

"Your family friend? You mean Leslie?"

Mark raised his eyebrows at me. "Yeah. How did you know about that?"

I unfolded my arms and then folded them again as an afterthought. "Is this the Leslie that you told me about?"

He looked confused for a second before comprehension dawned on his face. "Well, yeah. I told you that she was a family friend, Vic. You knew that. My parents have known her since she was born. She's like family." He seemed to notice, for the first time, my stony expression. "What?"

He didn't get it. I shook my head at him. "You know what? Forget it. I'm not doing this. Come on, Perry." I grabbed a confused Perry's arm and yanked him in the direction of the door.

"—But—"

"So you don't even want to talk about this?"

I whirled around to face Mark again, my temper flaring. "I'd love to talk about it, Mark. Honestly, I would. I just don't think you want to. I'm not going to stand here and dance around the fact that your mom seems to hate me. I'm just going to go home. I think I've had enough fun for one night." I turned and walked away, tugging Perry behind me.

"Where's your truck?" I asked, releasing my iron grip on his arm after we got outside.

"Vic, wait, please," I heard from behind us, and I turned again, seeing Mark, flanked by OC and Mike.

"What?"

"At least let Rizzo give you a ride home," he said, his voice softer than it had been in the bar.

Perry let out a derisive snort beside me.

"What, pal?" OC said, taking a step forward. "So he doesn't trust you. I don't even know you and I know you're a little fucked."

I felt Perry take a step forward. "Just let us leave, man," he said, addressing Mark. "She doesn't want to talk right now."

Mark's confrontational face fell. He looked like he was about to answer him, but OC stepped in before he could. OC walked forward and shoved Perry lightly. "Buddy, why don't you just head home? I think you're late for curfew."

Perry proved a little harder to shove than OC seemed to think, because he came back for a second push, this time backing Perry right up against his truck. Perry put his arms up and caught OC's arms as he came in to shove him again. "Just stop, man," he said calmly. "I don't want any trouble."

But temper issues and a few beers had gotten the better of OC, and he snorted, glancing over his shoulder at Mike, who seemed to realize something and started to move towards them. Before he could get there, OC drew back and then suddenly punched Perry in the jaw, causing him to double over clutching his face. Mike got to OC before he could do anything else.

"C'mon, OC. Come inside, man," he said in a pacifying voice, leading OC inside. "Sorry, Vic," he called over his shoulder, sending me an apologetic look as they went back into the bar.

Mark was still standing there, staring at Perry, who was straightening up and rubbing the side of his face where OC had hit him. The two stared at each other for a long moment. "Look, man. I'm sorry. I didn't—"

Guessing what he was going to say, Perry snorted. "I doubt that, buddy. Why else did you bring them out here? You wanted to make sure you had some of your little friends along just in case things got out of hand. And really? Did you honestly think I was going to fight you?"

Mark's shoulders slumped and, to my surprise, he looked ashamed. He took one more glance at me and then retreated back into the bar. Beside me, Perry yanked the passenger-side door open for me and then stomped around to the other side. I hesitantly climbed inside and shut the door. Perry hopped up into his side and slammed his door.

I watched Perry drive in silence for a minute, the street lights reflecting oddly off his angry eyes. Finally, he said, "Nice fucking friends."

This was considerably better than I thought his outburst would be. I hung my head. "I'm sorry," I told him.

"Is that why you invited me?" he asked furiously. "You didn't say who you were with. I just assumed it would be your actual friends."

"_No_, Perry," I said, turning to stare at him. "Don't be ridiculous. I didn't think about it until I got off the phone with you, and then I couldn't get a hold of you."

He shrugged, and I noticed for the first time a bruise forming on his cheek. "Whatever. Remind me to avoid that guy if I ever see him again. Jesus Christ. _Hockey players_."

I shook my head. "I can't believe that happened, Perry. He could have broken your jaw… I'm so sorry."

Perry reached up and gingerly rubbed his jaw again. "Nah. It's not made of glass," he said simply. After another long moment he spoke again. "So what does this mean for you and Johnson?"

I shrugged, realizing that I had pretty much forgotten about the original fight. "I don't know. I guess I'll have to talk to him tomorrow or something. I think he has the day off, so if he's smart he'll come see me."

Perry didn't say anything.

"What?" I asked.

"You're honestly okay with this?" he sounded mad again. "I mean, the guy sends his crazy, monster friend after me just because you were leaving with me, which was _your _idea, let's not forget, and you're willing to just forgive him? Not to mention, it seemed like you guys were having a serious debate about some serious things just before I showed up."

"You don't get it, Perry," I said. "We have to talk about this or we'll never figure it out. I'd be an idiot if I said I wasn't mad at him right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I care about him."

Perry clenched his jaw and kept driving.


	29. Chapter 29

**Bwah, okay. So, obviously I won't be finishing this before Christmas. But I'm done school until January, so expect at least one more update before I disappear again. Anyway. Enjoy! :) **

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"Are you sure you're okay?" Perry asked, slowing to a stop beside my building.

"Yeah," I told him, reaching for the handle. "Thanks for the ride, Perry. I'm sorry about tonight." I tried to smile. I wasn't mad at him. I was mad at the world.

Perry seemed to understand this. "You're welcome. And don't worry about it. Shit happens, right?"

I gave him a distracted nod and got out of the truck. "Night," I said and shut the door sharply. I had barely taken a step before I turned around and pulled it open again, catching Perry about to drive off. "Do you want to come inside?"

Perry took the key out of the ignition. "Of course."

He followed me inside, and the minute we sat down at my kitchen table, I slumped forward, my forehead resting on the cool top of it.

"So," Perry said after a while, "mind telling me what that was all about?"

"Mmmph," I said into the table, and he laughed. I brought my head up. "His mom hated me, Perry. I honestly think she must have literally hated me."

Perry didn't look surprised, and that bothered me. He shrugged. "You can't worry about that. As far as I know, the only person you have to worry about impressing is Johnson, right? If she can't see how great you are, then that's her problem."

I lowered my chin to the top of the table. "And she told him that I was unfriendly. He didn't even listen to my side of the story. That's what bothered me. It was like he didn't even care what actually happened, just as long as he didn't upset his mom."

"How is it that you're even still with him?"

Perry probably didn't mean to sound as harsh as he did, I tried to tell myself. I shrugged. "You don't get it, Perry. Apparently his mom coming just screwed everything up. It'll be fine once she leaves."

He shook his head at me. "Do you have coffee?"

I nodded, and he got up and busied himself making some. I had a feeling that he was only doing this to hold himself back from saying what he actually wanted to. Neither of us said anything until he returned with two steaming mugs.

Unable to restrain myself, I said, "I'm sorry that you and Mark don't get along."

Perry said nothing and took a long drink of coffee. I propped my chin up on my fist and stared at him. He glanced up and met my eyes. "What?" he said, shrugging. "What do you want me to say to that?"

I shrugged back at him. "Nothing. I was just saying that to be saying something."

It was the most awkward conversation I'd ever had with Perry.

A few more minutes passed and we both jumped as we heard a car horn honking outside. I got to my feet and walked to the window, seeing Mike Eruzione's car driving away, leaving Mark standing there by himself on the sidewalk.

"Of course," Perry said, surprising me by being at my side. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," I said firmly. "I'm mad at him, and you're my guest right now. He can wait. If he really cares, he'll just have to wait out there."

"His ride left," Perry said, but I shook my head.

"Nope. Come, sit. Drink your coffee."

He reluctantly went back to the table and I followed him, throwing one more glance at the sidewalk, where Mark was walking slowly in the direction of the door, staring up at the window because he likely saw us standing there.

We heard him make his way down the hallway and up to the door, knocking softly at first, and then louder when I didn't answer.

"Vic?" he said quietly. "Vic, I saw you in the window; I know you're in there. I just want to talk. He can stay if you want."

The last bit made my temper flare. "How nice of you, Mark," I said snidely, not moving from my chair. "Allowing Perry to stay. You're so great."

"That came out wrong," Mark said, his voice sounding kind of desperate. "Please, Vic. Just let me talk to you."

I stood up and walked briskly past Perry who was sitting awkwardly in his chair and pounded on the door. I heard Mark jump back. "You can talk to me from out there. You don't deserve to be in here tonight."

"I can leave, you know…" Perry began nervously.

"_No_," I said firmly and turned my attention back to the door. "Well? Talk!" I was being immature and stupid, and I knew it. But I didn't care.

I heard Mark sigh. "Look. You know how I feel about you-"

"No, I don't," I said, cutting him off. "Start by talking a little bit about that, because I'm not exactly sure right now."

There was a long pause before Mark spoke again. "You keep me sane," he said. "I don't ever say it, but sometimes living the life of a hockey player is really hard. Sitting on a bus for hours just to have to turn it right away for a game right after you get off, the inspired-by-ham sandwiches that we have to eat after the games because we can't get reservations to a restaurant, and getting home at four in the morning just to wake up for a bag-skate a few hours later, it all sucks, but I keep myself from coming unglued because I know that I'll be hanging out with you sometime, Vic. I don't want you to worry but I rely on you more than you'll ever believe." I heard him pat the door lightly.

I looked over at Perry. He shrugged and shook his head. "Why didn't you stand up for me when your mom said those things?" I asked after a moment.

"I honestly thought she'd love you, and when she told me that she didn't, I didn't know what to do or how to react. I plan on talking to her and telling her exactly how amazing you are. Honestly, though, Vic, I wouldn't care if she thinks you're rude or late or whatever other stupid, wrong thing. She doesn't know you, and when she gets to know you, I promise you she'll regret saying any of that stuff." He patted the door again and I put my hand where I thought his was, thinking.

Perry was suddenly beside me. "I'm gonna go," he said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Okay," I said, pulling the door open and revealing a surprised-looking Mark. "Just letting him out," I told him, allowing Perry to leave. As Perry passed him, Mark raised a hand and clapped Perry on the shoulder. Perry looked back over his shoulder, his face impassive as he disappeared down the hall.

After he'd gone, Mark and I stood staring at each other in the doorway for a long moment before Mark shrugged and said, "It might not seem like it, but I'm trying really hard not to mess this up."

"What are you doing next year?" I heard myself asking the question before I could stop myself. Mark looked slightly surprised, so I continued: "Wade said that you were going to be in Pittsburgh, and I want to know why this has never come up before if I mean so much to you."

Mark opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a woman stuck her head out of one of the apartments across the hall from mine. "Could you two please take your argument inside? My kids aren't particularly interested in hearing about your problems."

I gaped at her while Mark nodded curtly and took a step into the apartment, lightly closing the door behind him. He leaned against the door and gave me a long look. "Okay. Honestly, I didn't want to talk about this before I knew exactly what I was doing. I'm _talking_ to people from the Penguins about _possibly_ playing there next year. We've been talking since May, way before I met you."

"What are you going to do?"

He shrugged. "I don't know yet. You have to know that this is making the decision a hundred times harder. Look, what I want more than anything is to be playing in Minneapolis, but I just don't think that can happen. I should just be happy that I'll have a contract. It's a once in a lifetime opportunity, Vic."

I folded my arms. "You're making it sound like you've already agreed to something."

Mark shook his head. "No, I haven't. When I find out, I promise that I'll let you know."

"What are we going to do?" I asked, and Mark looked confused. "If you go, I mean."

"We'll work through it," he said confidently. "I'm not worried about us having problems then if we work through the issues when we get to them. If I have to go there, I'm not going to expect you to want to follow me. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

"Why do you hate Perry?"

The question, and my abrupt changing of the subject, surprised Mark. He blinked. "I don't hate him. I…" he stopped short at the look on my face, and his voice took on a defeated tone. "Okay, fine, I don't like him."

"Yeah, I know. Why, though?"

He took a long moment to think his answer over. "I don't know. I guess it's because I know that if I'm not spending time with you, there's a good chance that he is, and that gets to me. The two of you seem to get along so well."

"We do," I said thoughtfully. "but I don't think of him that way. He's like Terry."

"Except he's a nice guy," Mark said, tilting his head to the side. "It's the same thing as when you get defensive when anyone brings up Leslie."

"That's far from the same thing," I told him. "I've never slept with Perry. We haven't been friends for years. It's _so_ different."

He shrugged. "If you say so." We were quiet for a long moment. "Are you still mad?"

I regarded him seriously. "No," I said finally. "I'm not."

"Are we okay?"

"We will be," I said, nodding. "I don't want you to feel threatened, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

"Alright," he told me. "You either, about Leslie. I can't help how much my parents like her."

I rolled my eyes. "More than me."

He laughed, but only after he caught the smile on my face that gave him permission to do so. "They'll love you, I promise. My sisters and Peter seemed to like you, though. I think they got that you were nervous better than my parents did."

I understood right then that we _were_ going to be okay. Every couple had to deal with their first fight, and we didn't seem to have any devastating war-wounds from ours. Perry was right, I thought. I needed, more than anything, to worry about Mark understanding me before I ever worried about his mother. Like he said, we would cross that bridge when we got to it.


	30. Chapter 30

**Well, I said that I'd update again before my break ended... and I suppose I kind of lied. The break ended two days ago. But this is pretty good, you gotta admit. Right? I'd say that this story has about three, maybe four more chapters left, so we're in the home stretch here, people. Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone, and because I'm a nice Canadian, I won't mention/boast about the fact that Canada beat the States in the World Juniors. Mostly because they ended up getting whooped in the gold medal game by Russia. Oh no. So, enjoy. OH, and please please please review if you enjoyed it, and even if you didn't. It's kind of disheartening to check and see that approximately no one has reviewed a new chapter, and reviews get me pumped up and make me want to write more. Alright. So this author's note is getting to the "too long, didn't read" territory, so I'll just stop right here. Enjoy! :) **

"You don't get it, that's all," I said to Perry as we got out of my car and walked towards Rusty's Sports Emporium, my chosen destination to buy Wade's new hockey net. "You're not involved enough in the relationship to understand how it works."

Perry tilted his head to the side as he held the door open for me. "How, exactly, is your relationship different from any other one? The problems that you guys have are the same as the ones that other people have."

It was December 18th, three weeks after Mark and I had our fight, and Perry _had_ to bring it up every single time I saw him.

"Drop it," I warned him as I craned my neck in search of hockey-related merchandise.

"Can I help you with anything?" the man at the counter, presumably Rusty, asked us without moving.

I nodded. "Yeah, actually. I'm looking for a hockey net."

"Do you mean an official one? One like they would have in a rink?"

I glanced at Perry, who shook his head discreetly at me. "No." I said, and the man stared at me for a long moment.

"She's looking for one for street hockey," Perry said helpfully, breaking the silence. "Jesus, what's wrong with you?" he muttered to me, digging his elbow into my side as the man came out from behind the counter and approached us.

"Nothing," I said indignantly as the man passed us and we turned to follow him. "I don't know anything about hockey nets."

He rolled his eyes. "Even I know that normal hockey nets are a lot heavier. You should learn some things, Victoria."

"Whatever."

"How are you even paying for this? I thought you were completely broke."

I shrugged. "I am. I'm paying for half of it, and Mark's going to pay for the rest."

Perry laughed. "Wow, look at you two, paying for presents together. Did you send out a Christmas card to all your friends?"

I knocked into him with my shoulder. "Well, you said it yourself; I'm broke, and I will be until I finally get myself a job."

"Huh. I should look into finding myself one of those sometime. My money from working at the restaurant is just about gone."

The man led us to the designated "hockey" area of the store and gestured at a pile of boxes, apparently containing a net. I didn't know that they came apart, but I didn't tell Perry this. "Take your pick," he told me and I reached for one of them, finding it to be actually fairly light. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but did you two mention something about needing jobs?"

"Yeah," Perry said. "Are you hiring?"

And that is how I ended up working at Rusty's Sports Emporium.

"How could you possibly tell him that we'd be good at working at a sports store?" I burst out when we had left carrying the net I'd bought under my arm.

Perry just laughed and kept walking.

It didn't surprise me at all that Mark laughed too when he heard the news. "Well, I guess you wanted a job, right?"

I shook my head disgustedly as I searched in the closet for wrapping paper. "I guess so." We were wrapping Wade's gift before Mark had to go for two days, coming back just in time to exchange presents and then jet off again to Wisconsin. "You know, my family was wondering if you wanted to be a part of our Christmas this year, if we did it earlier."

Mark leaned forward, propping his elbow on his knee and resting his chin on his fist. "How much earlier? I don't want to be annoying."

I rose from the floor, deciding that the wrapping paper wasn't in there. "You're not going to be annoying. They invited you. They love you. I actually think they bought you a few things."

I could feel Mark's eyes on me as I went into my bedroom to look under my bed. To my surprise, I found four rolls there, along with some ribbon. I emerged with it, and Mark grinned. "Wow."

"It's amazing what a person might find under their bed," I said, tossing the paper at him. "Anyway, I want you to come to my family Christmas. I think it's important that you do."

He grinned again as he stretched out a long piece of paper. "We should cover every side of it with a different colour," he said wisely. "That would look really good."

So we did. And it looked _terrible_. But I loved it.

"What about the ends of it?" I asked when we were done, noticing that they weren't covered.

"Oh, yeah," Mark said, apparently thinking about it. "Do you have regular white paper? And pens?"

I gave him the materials he needed, and he set to work. About fifteen minutes later, he had finished drawing two absolutely horrible Christmas-themed pictures. One featured a small, square house with a chimney puffing out circular smoke with dots apparently representing snow all over it, and the second one was a picture of three people who I assumed were himself, me, and Wade standing around a Christmas tree. They were amazing.

"Forget hockey," I told him. "You need to be an artist, Mark."

"I know," he said, grinning broadly as he looked over his pictures. "Now, tape them to the sides. He's going to be so impressed with our wrapping job that he won't even want to unwrap it."

We topped off the present by tying an obscene amount of ribbon around it, which Mark helpfully tied in a knot.

"That's fantastic," I said as we stepped back to survey our handiwork. "We should set up a table in the mall and wrap gifts for people."

Mark laughed. "Well, now I have to come to your family Christmas to see what Wade thinks of this."

I wasn't completely sure if he was serious, but in the end, he was right there with my family on the 22nd, grinning as Wade reached, laughing, for his work-of-art gift.

"I almost don't want to unwrap this," he said, and Mark elbowed me, giving me a knowing look.

Of course, he did unwrap it, and was extremely happy with his new net. Wade wasted about a second before he challenged Mark to a game of one-on-one outside in front of the garage after we finished unwrapping presents. He sat, clearly itching to get outside as Mark unwrapped the dress shirt and tie that my parents bought him and the cologne that Perry picked for me to give him (which I had to open and smell because I was sure that Perry had picked cologne that smelled like shit). The two of them disappeared outside and apparently after they somehow found a way to put that net together in the dark, I heard the banging of the ball against the garage door, so I followed them, pulling my coat on.

Wade was trying out a complicated sort of move, attempting to get around Mark as he blocked his shot at the net. Mark bumped him with his chest, knocking Wade back a step. "Please, buddy," he said, approaching him. "You're finished." In one swift move, he stripped Wade of the ball and shot it into the net. Wade groaned.

"How about you tone it down a bit, superstar? Not everyone out here is on your level."

Mark glanced over at me. "Yeah, well, she's not playing. We're just lucky that we're not out on actual ice."

I threw a snowball at Mark. "Shut it."

Wade pulled the ball out of the net with his stick and started bouncing it on the blade of his stick. Mark poked it out of the air and whacked it into the net before it touched the ground.

"High stick!" Wade yelled at Mark, throwing his stick down in disgust.

"Jury's still out, pal," Mark said.

Wade ran at Mark. For a second, I thought he was serious. Mark tossed his stick aside and caught Wade by the elbows as he got close and pushed him away, laughing. Wade ran at him again, grinning broadly. He was able to duck under Mark's outstretched arms this time and caught him around the waist. Mark let out an, "Ooof!" as he was thrown backwards into the snowbank beside the driveway.

The two of them emerged from the snow a second later, covered in white, laughing. "Help, Vic," Mark said, holding out a hand.

He was obviously about to pull me into the snow with them. "I'm not as dumb as I look," I told him, smiling sweetly.

Mark scoffed. "What are we, eight? Come on." He shook his hand in the air. Thinking I would probably regret it, I took his hand.

For a second, I was actually pretty sure that Mark wasn't going to pull me in. Then he gave an almighty tug that pulled me clean off of my feet and headfirst into the snow beside him.

I coughed out a mouthful of snow. "Thanks. Real mature."

Mark grinned at me and lay back in the snow. "Nothing is softer than snow. If it didn't melt, I'd make a bed out of it."

We just lay there in silence for a while before Wade spoke up. "When are you leaving for the games?"

"The start of February," he in an odd voice, and I turned my head to look at him. A sort of rigid look had come over his face.

Wade, seeming to sense what I was seeing in Mark, breathed heavily into the air, sending a cloud of steam out above us, and didn't mention the Olympics again.

In the car on the way to drop Mark off at his apartment, he hung his head. "What's the matter?" I asked him curiously.

"Is it bad that I kind of wish I had an ordinary life like yours?"

I frowned at him. "Seriously?"

He shrugged. "Well, I don't know. I mean, tonight I wondered what it would be like if I was just a student here at the university and we were together. Do you think that would be better?"

"Better for what?"

"I don't know. Us. I mean, you can't be loving the fact that I won't be around after the Olympics, right?"

I pulled to a stop at a red light and looked over at him. "Well, honestly? No, I'm not. But you have to understand that I realize you have other stuff going on. It used to really bother me that hockey was your number one priority, but if it's what you have to do, who am I to stop it? You wouldn't be you if you didn't play hockey. The fact that you're so dedicated to it is part of why I like you so much."

The light turned green, and Mark nodded. "Sure, but you never know, things might be better if they were different."

"And they might not be. You have to trust that what we're doing right now is what's right. If I wanted to change things, I would have. And so would you. But you're happy, right?" Mark nodded. "And so am I." I reached over and grabbed his hand. "Look, don't think like that. There's nothing about this that is anything other than ideal."

Mark didn't say anything. "I got you a present."

I glanced over at him. I'd already opened a strawberry-scented bath set and an extremely soft blue blanket back at the house. "You got something else?"

He nodded and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a small, black box. "Aaw, come on, Mark," I said, trying to push it back as he tried to give it to me.

"No, this is for you," he said. We pulled to a stop in front of his building. He dropped it into my lap. "Here. Just open it."

I popped the black box open. Inside was a delicate silver necklace. I gently took it out of the box, noticing a small charm dangling at the bottom of it. At first glance, it looked like a letter "L", but I took it into my hand, studying it. "It's…"

"A hockey stick," Mark explained, laughing a bit as I squinted at it, seeing the small lines that were apparently tape. "I saw it in the mall the other day, and I thought it was perfect. I thought I'd give you something to help you think of me when I'm gone."

As I looked at the tiny charm, I felt my eyes fill with tears. I raised my eyes to Mark, who was watching me, apparently gauging my reaction to his gift. "I won't need anything to help me think of you. Trust me."


	31. Chapter 31

**Okay, so this one is... Really long. But I'm sure you don't care about that. Please review and let me know what you think, and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! :) Enjoy, folks! **

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Time had a way of going by a lot faster back then. Before we knew it New Years had passed and suddenly it was four days before the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. Mark and his team were going to be leaving early the next morning for New York for the exhibition game against the Soviets, and, naturally, in their style, they had a bit of a get-together the night before.

It seemed like every girl in the Twin Cities area was flocking to the apartment building where the boys lived. I bumped shoulders with a girl who gave me a dirty look as I tried to navigate my way through the room to find Mark.

"Sorry," I said.

"Whatever."

Alright, sounds good.

"Looking for Johnson, Vic?" I turned at the sound of my name. Bah and Pav were sitting on the couch, on either side of a girl who looked very annoyed to see me stopping.

"Yeah, I am. Is he around?"

Bah gave me a slightly pained look. "He is. But I don't know if you want to go looking for him right now."

I frowned. "And why's that?"

"Because that crazy girl is here."

"What crazy girl?"

Bah continued to look uncomfortable. "Leslie, or something. She showed up yesterday after our practice."

"Leslie?" Of course.

Pav nodded, and the girl sitting between them got to her feet and walked away. "She's been following us around all day. I think they might be friends, because Johnson's too nice to tell her to get lost."

"Are you gonna do the jealous girlfriend thing?" Bah asked, taking a sip of his drink and then handing it to me. "Have a drink if you are. It'll be more interesting."

I sneered at him. "Thanks for the tip, friend." I turned to walk away, taking his drink with me.

"Let us know if there's gonna be a fight," I heard Pav call after me.

I waved a hand over my shoulder, taking a long swig of the drink and screwing up my face. Then I spotted Mark.

He was standing in the kitchen, near the sink. Attached to his hip was a girl who was probably a little younger than us. She was leaning closer than was necessary to speak to him, her blonde hair brushing over Mark's shoulder. Mark bent his head closer to hers, trying to hear her over the noise, and then said something that made her laugh hysterically, patting him on the chest with her hand. They looked like a couple.

Mark noticed me standing there first. He straightened up. "Hey, Vic."

Leslie sidled noticeably closer to him and looked over at me. "Vic?"

I raised my drink in greeting to them and then turned to walk away. Mark started to scramble after me.

"Hey—Vic? Vic. Stop w—Oh, God, I'm sorry about that, so sorry. Vic? Vic, wait. _Victoria._"

Upon hearing him say my full name, I decided that he probably meant business and stopped walking. He grabbed my arm and gently pulled me around to face him. "What's the matter?"

I gave him a disconcerted look. "What are you talking about? Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to leave you alone so you could visit."

Mark's face fell and he dropped my arm. "Look, you don't have to worry about that. About her. She's just… Here. My parents…"

"What? They sent over a replacement for me? That's amazing, Mark. That's just great."

"They didn't hate you…"

"So then why is she here? They already mentioned that she was going to be in Lake Placid with you guys. Why would she need to be here now?"

He shook his head. "I can see how this looks kind of bad. But I swear to God, it's not, Vic. You're the only one I want anything to do with. She's just my friend. I would never do that to you."

Someone walked by me, bumping my shoulder and causing me to spill some of Bah's drink on the carpet. I remembered that I had it and took a drink, trying to think of something to say. "But you… You and her… _We _haven't even…"

Mark caught on to what I was saying. "I know. I know we did. But it was a long time ago, and it was a mistake, Vic. If there were any feelings there whatsoever, I would have told you about them. She's just my friend. That's all she'll ever be."

While he was talking, neither of us noticed Leslie walking up behind Mark. At his words, she made a huffing sound, gave me a death glare, and stalked out of the apartment. Mark stared after her with an exasperated look on his face. In that moment, I suddenly felt guilty for being so suspicious. Taking a step closer to him, I reached out and grabbed Mark's hand. He turned back to look at me, his expression pleading. I gave him a small smile and jerked my head in the direction of the door. Mark muttered, "Thanks," before kissing me and then disappearing after Leslie out the door.

I had a very bad feeling about it.

An hour and a half later, Mark still hadn't returned to the apartment. I sat squished between Bah and Pav on their couch, nursing my fourth (fifth?) drink.

"I mean, obviously they're just talking, right?" I said, propping my elbows up on my knees.

Bah shrugged. "I don't know, Vic. You won't either unless you go look for them."

"Or you could just trust him," Pav put in. "I wouldn't go looking for them. That would make you look crazy."

"Aren't I?"

"No," they both said at the same time.

"What do you even have to worry about, Vic? I mean, you and Johnson are a solid couple, right? You don't usually fight or anything, as far as I've seen."

"No," I said. "No, we don't really fight. But he's never around, and…"

Pav snorted. "That's what happens when you date a hockey player. He's got to be away. It's his job."

I glared at him over the top of my cup as I took another drink. "I know that," I said after, wiping my mouth with my wrist. "It just sucks, okay?"

"Don't you get it, Pav?" Bah said, grinning. "She can't stand it when he's gone because she doesn't get any when he's not around."

They both laughed, and I shook my head at them. "No, that's not it at all. To be honest, Mark and I haven't even slept together yet."

"Bull. Shit," Bah said. "I don't believe you. You guys have been seeing each other since July."

I shrugged. "I know. We just haven't yet. We've talked about it, and I've tried to make it happen a few times, but he just wants to wait for a while."

"Man, that's crazy. Johnson must be some kind of saint or something. I'd hate that."

I elbowed Bah. "Don't be gross."

"I'm not trying to be! I'm just saying, Vic. If it were me, I'd be getting impatient."

"…I'm not impatient. I just don't like how close he is with Leslie."

Bah held up his hands. "Whoa, subject change. What does that have to do with you sleeping with Johnson?"

I thought about it. "It doesn't have anything to do with _me_ sleeping with him."

"You mean… Her? Leslie? Johnson and Leslie?"

I nodded. "Yup."

Bah and Pav exchanged a look. "Man. I knew there was some reason she was so crazy about him. No one just shows up out of the blue to visit." Bah scratched his forehead. "I can't believe that."

Pav shook his head. "Me either. I changed my mind. You should definitely go look for them, Vic."

I sat my drink down on the table and watched the liquid in it swish around for a few moments. "Do you think?"

Pav nodded. "Definitely."

"Okay." I got unsteadily to my feet. "I'll talk to you guys later." I walked away, feeling pretty sure of myself. I was going to find them, and talk to Mark. And maybe her, if she had such a problem with realizing that Mark had a girlfriend.

I'd seen them both go out of the apartment, so I headed straight for the door. They weren't out in the hallway, so I headed towards the door leading outside. As I did, I thought that it might be a good idea to sneak up on them, to maybe hear a bit of what they were talking about. I went into ninja mode when I spotted Mark and Leslie sitting on the front steps of the building, and I crept closer, pushing on the door with my hand lightly to hold it open a bit.

"…Not that you aren't important or anything," Mark was saying, "I just really like Vic."

"How long have you even known her? How can you say that?"

"It's not about how long you've known someone, Les, you know that. It's just something that I know, okay?"

"Sure. It's no problem. I guess it's just my fault that I've been getting mixed signals from you lately."

Lately?

"Lately?" Mark said, and I nodded fervently, craning my neck to see them. "What do you mean? Les, I haven't talked to you since I left Madison."

"I mean these past two days. You seem so happy to have me here, Mark."

"I _am_ happy to have you here. I actually missed talking to you, Les. You're one of my best friends."

She made a _tsk_ing sound. "When are you going to get it? We make sense, Mark. I'm not trying to be a huge bitch here, but I can't wait for you forever."

"Wait for _what_?" Mark started to raise his voice. "Look, I know you think that there was some reason behind what happened between us, but if there is, I'm not seeing it! I can't figure you out sometimes, Leslie. I mean, you mean too much to me as a friend to ever be anything else."

Leslie didn't say anything for a long time. "That's not good enough," she said, and peering over the top of the window on the door, I saw her lean over and put her head on his shoulder, which rose and then fell heavily with Mark's great sigh.

"What are you doing?" A whisper in my ear made me jump and almost drop the door. I turned my neck to look at who was behind me. Jimmy Craig, the goalie, was crouching beside me, a beer in his hand.

I carefully let go of the door. "Nothing."

Jimmy raised himself up a bit to catch a glimpse of them. "Spying on him? Isn't that a little… y'know, crazy?"

I crawled a few steps and got to my feet, walking so I was behind a corner where Mark couldn't see me. "I'm not being crazy. I just wanted to know what they were talking about."

He smirked at me. "Say what you want. From where I'm standing, you're bat-shit insane."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask you, did I?" I grabbed Jimmy and pulled him around the corner with me.

Jimmy chuckled. "I don't see what you're getting so wound up about. They're clearly just talking." He poked his head around the corner to look again. "Well, I mean, I guess he is. I don't really know about her."

"What, exactly, is your problem?"

He came back around the corner, smirk still firmly in place. "No problem, really. I just thought I'd see what happened to make the happy couple not-so happy anymore."

"You're ridiculous," I fumed. "I've never even talked to you!"

"And that's why it bothers you so much to realize that I'm right."

"How are you right? Mark and I aren't unhappy."

He shrugged. "I just know I am. See, have a look," he said, grabbing me by the shoulders and pushing them around the corner. I looked. Leslie was still sitting with her head on Mark's shoulder, and was obviously talking, because Mark was shaking his head over and over.

"He looks annoyed."

"Sure he does. But other than that, don't they look good together?"

They did.

Jimmy pulled me back around the corner. "Look, I'm not saying that you and Johnson have no chance of ever having a future together. I'm trying to say that you won't ever be as good with him as she is."

I made a face at him. "_What_?"

"She's been wanting to be with him for years. _Years_. Even before they had that random, messy hookup, she's been trying to find a way to tell him how she feels about him."

"I'm confused. How could you possibly know that?"

He shrugged. "I just do. She talked to me for about an hour and a half today about it. I guess I seem like a trustworthy kinda guy."

I stared at him. "How about that."

"I know. It's crazy. Anyway," Jimmy continued. "She told me that she's been trying to figure out the perfect way to get the two of them together, and she realized that she needs to be here for him. Now, and during the games. That's why she came. She wanted to tell him how she felt, and she wanted to support him."

I shook my head at him. "You're nuts. And if you're being serious, she might be, too."

Jimmy shrugged yet again, leaning casually against the wall. "I'm being serious. I just thought you ought to know what's going on."

"What's going on?"

Jimmy and I both jumped. Neither of us heard Mark and Leslie coming back inside. He stood in front of us, looking from one to the other, a confused expression on his face. Leslie's face, gleaming with what looked like triumph, made me wonder how much they had heard, or what had happened outside.

Jimmy pushed off of the wall, winking at me. "Nothing at all, pal. I was just filling Victoria here in on a little secret of mine. Leslie, you look like you could use another drink. Come 'ere." He put an arm around her shoulders and they disappeared around the corner, leaving Mark and I alone.

"Since when do you and Jimmy Craig have anything to talk about?"

"Since I realized that your little girlfriend there needs to be institutionalized, Mark."

Mark tilted his head to the side. "Last time I checked, you're the only girlfriend that I have. Vic, what's wrong?"

I gave his a disgusted look. "If you don't know, I'm not telling you."

He frowned. "Hey, look—You were fine with me going and talking to her when we were inside. What did Jimmy say to you?"

"Jimmy said a lot of things."

"Are you kidding? I want to know why you're so upset with me all of the sudden so I can fix it, Vic. What did he say?"

I shrugged. "He just told me that she has feelings for you, and that's why she's here."

"You already knew that, Vic. I told you that already."

"No, you told me that she started to have feelings for you after you two slept together, but Jimmy said that she's wanted to be with you since long before that."

Mark looked confused. "Why do you believe that? How would he know? He probably made it up, Vic."

"He could have, but I don't see why he'd waste his time doing that. He said that Leslie told him all about it earlier."

"Are you intimidated by her?"

His question caught me off guard and for a moment, I didn't say anything.

"Because if you are," he continued, "I can tell her to leave. I don't want her to be around if she's making you uncomfortable."

"That's exactly what she wants," I snapped. "For me to have to tell you to make her leave because I feel like she's going to steal you away. No, I don't want you to do that, especially since you seem to want her to be here, too."

Mark gave me a long look. "Okay. So you don't want her to leave. But you also don't want to be civil to her. What exactly is it that you want, Vic? I'm so confused right now."

I stared at him for a few moments. "I want there to be nothing for me to worry about. I want you to convince me that I have nothing to worry about with her."

We stood there, staring at each other for a long time. I felt like we were in a standoff or something. I was half-expecting him to take a few paces backwards and then pull a gun on me.

Finally Mark took a deep breath. "You know, when I came here, I promised my dad that I'd do nothing but focus on hockey. It seemed like a fair deal to me, too. I mean, this is kind of big for me. Dad told me that I had to be careful not to mess this opportunity up, because it's extremely important for my career, if I want to have one." He looked at me as if he wanted me to say something, but I couldn't really think of anything to say, so I just continued to watch him.

"But then this really weird and amazing thing happened," he continued after a second. "I met this drunken mess of a girl in Colorado, and I started hanging out with her. I wasn't sure where it was going to go, but I thought that maybe going out with someone a few times might be a good way to keep my mind off of what I was doing to save my sanity. And before I knew what I was doing or what was going on, I realized that I was falling in love with her and that I didn't want to lose her." He paused again for me to interrupt, and when I didn't, he continued: "Let me rephrase that. I _am_ falling in love with you, and I _don't_ want to lose you, Vic. There's no one else. I swear."

Neither of us said anything for a few minutes after that. His words hung in the air, and every time I opened my mouth to try to say something, I thought better of it. Finally, I took a step forward. "You should consider a career in politics," I said simply, and put my arms around him.

I heard Mark chuckle lightly before wrapping me into a hug. He kissed my forehead lightly and rested his chin on the top of my head. "I love you," he said quietly, holding me tighter.

I looked up into his eyes and I knew he meant it. Raising myself up on my toes, I kissed him, gently pushing up back against the wall. Mark pulled me tighter against him and kissed me back.

It was a bit of extraordinary coincidence that we happened to be standing right outside of Mark's apartment. I'm not completely sure what we would have ended up doing if Mark hadn't reached behind him and pushed the door open, pulling me in after him.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review! **


	32. Chapter 32

**Ugh. Whoops. So, this is one of the last chapters. I'd say there's about four more. Maybe three. At any rate, enjoy this one, and _review it_ if you liked it! **

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The next morning I woke up tangled in a combination of Mark and what seemed like a thousand blankets. I tried to move carefully out from under Mark's arm, when I saw that he was already awake.

"Hi," I said, smiling at him.

"Hey," he replied, not smiling and pushing a bit of my hair behind my ear. He carefully untangled himself from me and sat up. "I'm an idiot."

I frowned, sitting too and pulling blankets around me. "Why?"

"Because of this. Because I lied to you."

"You lied… about what, Mark?" I was starting to get a sick feeling in my stomach.

He regarded me for a second before heaving a great sigh. "Okay. I guess I need to be straight about something with you. I haven't been completely honest."

"About what?" It seemed like he was stalling and it was scaring me.

Mark signed again. "I'm going to Pittsburgh."

I blinked. "I already knew that. We've talked about it."

He shook his head, refusing to meet my eyes. "No, we haven't really. Not as much as we could have. Should have. There are things about it that I haven't told you."

"Such as?"

"I've already signed a contract with them."

I remembered Wade saying something about this. I still didn't get it, though. "Yeah, so?"

"It was for as soon as I could be there. That means… as soon as the Olympics are over, I'm moving to Pittsburgh."

"Wait. You mean you're not going to finish the year in Madison?"

"No. I'll be there within a week of the Games ending."

I quickly got out of bed, dragging one of the blankets with me. "What? You can't be serious. I thought we were going to spend that time figuring out how we're going to make this work! Mark, how can you not have told me this? When did you sign?"

He hung his head.

"Mark?"

"The beginning of June." His voice was so quiet I barely heard him. I did, though, and I immediately started looking around the room for my clothes. I felt sick. "Wait-" he said, but I cut him off, spinning abruptly to face him.

"How could you do that? You've _known_ that this wouldn't work for _months_ and you just don't _say_ anything to me? Even though I've _mentioned _it a few times? That's really sneaky, Mark!"

He scrambled over the other side of the bed, grabbing his jeans and pulling them on, reaching for his shirt. "I didn't know how to tell you! And you really believed that we could make it work!"

"That's because I thought you'd be only a state over! The problem I'm having now is that you'll be farther away! I can't believe this." Fully dressed, I made my way to the door.

"You don't even want to talk about this?" He'd said this to me before, but this time it was in a defeated sort of voice. I turned to look at him again.

"I can't, Mark. This… I want to believe in this so badly. You have no idea. But you keeping something like this from me, something that you've known since before we even met… I need some time to think about things."

"Think about them here," Mark said softly, coming towards me slowly as if he were trying to avoid scaring me off. "Listen, we need to talk about it. You know we do. I lo-"

"No, don't say that," I told him, putting my hand up.

"I do, though," he said, folding his arms resolutely.

"I know. At least, I think I do," I replied. "But you're only making this harder."

His eyes went wide. "Making what harder?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure yet. Like I said, I need time to think. I'm not sure of much, but I think that I need to stay away from you for a while."

"But…" Mark unfolded and then folded his arms again. "I leave _in a few hours_. I can't just let you leave, Vic."

"You have to." I left, and he didn't try to stop me.

I drove home that day so preoccupied that I drove right past my building, which was good because I remembered suddenly that I had a job now and I was working that day. I quickly made my way over to Rusty's and parked.

And then immediately started to cry.

It took me a few moments to realise that someone was knocking on my window. I looked up, completely aware of the fact that I looked a mess, and saw that it was Perry. He waved, apparently not fazed by my appearance. He motioned for me to roll the window down. I got out of the car instead.

"Man, if you're this upset about having to work here, I'll just tell Rusty that you're sick," he said good naturedly, throwing an arm around my heaving shoulders.

"It's not that," I blubbered. "I think… I don't know. Stuff just happened with Mark and I don't know what it means or what's going on. Everything just got really messed up."

Perry made a funny noise and I looked up at him. "Of course that's why you're crying. Ever notice that you get upset about things that happen with Johnson a lot?"

I hit him in the arm so hard that he turned to look at me, frowning. "This would be a lot easier if I could actually talk to you without you being an ass," I said, wiping my eyes on his sleeve.

He pulled his arm away, feigning great disgust. "Please, woman," he said, keeping his distance from me. "You used to like how honest I was about your questionable relationship."

I folded my arms. "I was. I'd just like it more if you'd just lie to me every so often."

Perry laughed and pulled the door open for me. "Of course," he told me. "I'll lie if that's what you want."

He didn't really lie to me, but he did make me feel a little bit better over the five hours that we worked that day. I discovered that working at a sports store didn't really require me to know a lot about sports. Mostly this was because Rusty's had three customers the entire time we were working. I also discovered that Rusty and his wife didn't get along. Well, I think everyone there that day did.

"All you ever do is stay at home, Helena, how would you ever appreciate what I do here?"

"What you _do_? _What you do_? You sell soccer balls and sharpen skates! Who would appreciate that?"

Perry winked at me as he straightened some batting helmets. "That's what comes out of relationships where people cry, Victoria. People argue, which leads to crying, which leads to screaming, which leads to more crying. It's never a good thing."

I frowned at him. "You know, if you care so much, you should have tried harder when I wasn't with Mark."

He shrugged. "I did, remember? I kissed you the first time I ever talked to you. For some reason you just never saw me in that way.

That was true. I regarded Perry seriously for a moment. "I don't know why that is," I told him. "Maybe you annoy me too much."

Later that night, I settled down onto my couch and turned on the television, forgetting that it was broken. "Shit," I said, slumping into the couch. The phone rang. "Hello?"

"Vic?" It was Mark. I almost dropped the phone.

"Mark? I thought you left," I said, sitting down at my table and cradling the receiver against my ear.

"I did," he said flatly. "We're in Detroit right now. We stopped for the night."

"Oh."

A long pause followed, and after a while Mark said, "Look, I know things got sort of crazy this morning, and I just wanted to apologize. I didn't want to have you find out that way."

I rested my chin on my fist. "So why did you tell me like that? You could have said something a long time ago and I probably would have been fine."

I heard him take a deep breath. "I know," he said. "I know. And I'm sorry. I wish I could do it over again. But I think this might be for the best, you know?"

"Wait, what?" I had started nodding before I could process what he had said. "What's for the best?"

"This," Mark said. "Just… Maybe slowing down and taking a break for a while."

"What?" I nearly shouted into the phone. "Are you serious? That's not what I meant when I left this morning. I needed time to think about how I was going to deal with you being gone! I didn't want to break up!"

Mark made a non-committal sound. "That's what I thought. But then after you left, I got to thinking that maybe it _would_ be too hard, you know? We'd never get to hang out like we do now, and you hate it when I'm gone anyway, right? I don't know why you would even want to stay together after I leave."

"Because I want to be with you!" I said loudly. "I thought we were going to try and make it work, Mark!"

"We did, didn't we?" he was starting to sound angry. "I think we did. It's not like we won't see each other ever again, either. I'll be in Minnesota a lot for hockey."

I couldn't believe he was saying these things. "I don't just want to see you when you're in 'Minnesota a lot for hockey'," I blurted. "I-"

"I think this is just coming as a shock to you," Mark told me soothingly. "Look, I'm going out for something to eat with the boys. Can I call you later?" When I didn't reply, he said, "I really think this is for the best, Vic. I know you will too. You just have to get used to the idea." And with that, he hung up.

I sat with the phone pressed against my head for a long time after that. After a while, I hung the phone up and immediately picked it up again, deciding I was going to call Mark back, before I realised that I didn't know where he was staying. In the end I curled up on the couch, staring at the phone waiting for him to call back.

At one in the morning, the phone rang.

Bizarrely enough, I wasn't asleep. I immediately reached out and grabbed it, as though I'd known it was going to ring all along. "Hello?"

"Vic." The voice on the other line wasn't Mark. It sounded like… "This is Bah, Vic." He was whispering.

"Yeah?" I cleared my throat. "Bah?"

"Yeah. Look, I can't talk long. I had to call you. He's not gonna call, Vic."

It baffled me how I wasn't surprised to hear him say that. "Oh."

"I'm really sorry. I had to call you because I thought you'd be expecting him to call…"

"I was."

"Oh."

I started to realize what was happening. "Thanks for calling, Bah. It means a lot."

He didn't say anything for a moment. "Look, I gotta go. I just wanted to say… It was really nice getting to know you for the past couple of months. And I'm sorry Johnson was so stupid about ending it. That's his mistake. You're a great girl, and I'm gonna miss you."

There were tears running down my face and I didn't even notice until one fell onto my coffee table with a small splash. "Thanks, Bah. I'll miss you too."

"Maybe I'll see you around Minneapolis sometime," he whispered hurriedly. "But look. Johnson mentioned some other guy—Harry, I think he said-"

"Perry."

"Yeah, him. Vic, I think he's the real deal. Any guy who takes a shot to the face for a girl is in it for the long haul, and that's a fact. Just do me a favour and give him a chance, alright?"

I blinked, dumbfounded. "Okay, I will, Bah."

"Thanks. Okay. I have to go. Do me another favour and cheer me on at the Olympics, alright? I think we're gonna need all the help we can get."

"I'll do that too. Score me a goal."

"I'll do my best. Goodnight, Vic."

He never scored a goal at the Olympics, but Bah tried. And I'm no expert, but I think that counts for something.


	33. Chapter 33

**Ah, so here's the elusive Chapter 33. I'm going to be done my last exam on Thursday so I'll have more time to write (or think that I should probably write and get this finished before we have a wooden anniversary for our relationship). Anyway, enjoy. OH. To my (one and only) reviewer: **

**Jolena, **

**Thanks for reviewing-and actually _reviewing_, not just saying that it was an outstanding chapter, woo-hoo. I really appreciate you taking the time to do that, so I'll address your comments directly. Something you should know about stuff that I write is that I basically never give my characters what they originally want. I apparently just love to screw over fictional people. It's a real problem, because I really like Mark Johnson the actual person-he seems super humble and smart, and I just really admire him. In anyone's else's fanfiction there'd be no question of whether or not they'd end up together, but I don't like things being on the straight and narrow because that's not the way things actually happen. Anyway, before this turns into a thousand-word ramble, I hope you enjoy this chapter (and didn't give up on me eventually updating). **

**That goes for all you out there, too. Review, please and thanks! :) **

The next week or so was just awful. At first I didn't want to tell my family that it was over between Mark and I, because I was holding onto this childish belief that he was going to call and say that he'd made some kind of mistake and that he wanted to be with me. Eventually, when I did tell them, they were actually more surprised than I imagined they would be.

"You're kidding," Wade said, sitting back in his chair. "What'd you do?"

I sighed. "I didn't _do_ anything," I said. It was hardly the time or the place to tell my little brother that the final blow to the relationship was him telling me he was going to Pittsburgh, this taking place the morning after we had sex for the first time. "It just didn't work out. I'm not even sure about… I don't know. It's so surreal to think that it's over." I was suddenly crying and I hated it.

My mom leaned forward and rubbed my arm. "If it didn't work out, then it's not meant to be, Victoria, you know that. You'll meet someone new, and you'll be fine. It'll be okay."

I wanted to believe her. I honestly did. I made a conscious effort to go out and get my television fixed, because the time that I spent sitting in my apartment was spent thinking about Mark and what I'd done wrong. In my opinion, it was my fault because I didn't stay with him that morning. If I'd have stayed, then we would have talked it over, and he'd be calling me from his hotel room in Lake Placid, telling me all about how he was doing (even though I went out and bought newspapers to read the write-ups about the Olympics for even the smallest bit of information about the hockey team.

One of the worst things about the whole situation was that I couldn't even spend time with Perry anymore. I still did, but whenever I saw him, all I could think about was what Bah had told me. "The real deal," he'd said. "In it for the long haul." How could I have ignored that for so long? I was such a little bitch, I thought, I ignored him and dumped all my issues with _my_ boyfriend on him just because he was my friend. I wondered how hard that was for him to deal with.

Perry noticed that I was acting weird right away. "Are you okay?" he asked me one day at work. Our agreement was that he helped customers, because he was much better at dealing with people, and I worked the cash register. There was no one in the store, and Rusty had taken his wife to New York for the weekend to, in Perry's words, "rekindle the romance".

I rested my chin on my fist, regarding him seriously. "What do you want to do with your life?"

This wasn't the question I wanted to ask, and clearly not the question Perry was expecting to hear, because his mouth dropped open for a second before he caught himself and frowned at me. "What?"

"I don't know. I mean, you're turning twenty in June, and you spend too much time dicking around to be in school… so what are your long-term plans?"

"I hope you're not going to tell me to get my life on track, sweetheart, because coming from a twenty-two year-old working at a sports store, that's kind of questionable," he said, laughing, and I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Perry rested his chin on his fist too, mimicking me and lowering his face to my level. "Well, since you asked," he said, scrunching up one side of his mouth and apparently thinking about it, "I guess I want to open a business of some kind. I don't really know. When I graduated I didn't know what I wanted to do, so I didn't see how it was productive to go to school and blow a bunch of money when I had no idea what I was doing. So I'm just taking it easy for a few years. Why?"

It was a fairly well though-out answer, and undeniably Perry. He looked at me expectantly, probably wanting me to tell him why I'd asked. I didn't. The problem wasn't him. He wasn't the one awkwardly asking these kinds of questions. In the end, we ended up staring at each other for a few full minutes before the bell above the door rang, announcing someone's arrival in the store.

The next day I decided I needed to "de-Perry". The problem was that I was spending too much time with him, and the things that Bah said were making me uncomfortable because I was starting to expect something from myself when it was clearly pretty stupid to expect anything. I resolved to spend a day by myself thinking. Then it struck me that I wasn't thinking about Mark for the first time in a few days. Then I started thinking about Mark again. And then I cried for a bit and decided that I needed to make more friends.

I almost called Terry. I literally had the phone in my hand before I somehow got a hold of some sense and set it back down. Then I noticed a piece of paper stuck on the wall beside my phone, and I pulled it out. It was Cynthia's phone number. Cynthia, Scott's fiancée. Was I honestly desperate enough to call her when I was feeling so low?

"Hey, Cynthia?" I was shaking my head as I spoke, completely mortified by what I was doing. "It's Victoria—you know, Scott's friend? We met at your Christmas party?" I had also seen her a few weeks ago, but I wasn't thinking very clearly.

"Oh—hey!" She sounded genuinely excited to be hearing from me. "This is so weird—Scott and I were just talking about you the other day."

Well, I thought, that can't be good. "Really?" I said, trying to sound as chipper as she did. "That _is _ weird. Look, the reason I called was to see if you wanted to go for coffee or lunch or something. I've got a free day here, and I thought I'd give you a call."

There was a second of silence on the other end before she replied, "Yeah! Of course. I'd love to go to lunch with you. I know this adorable little place that serves the absolute best cinnamon buns and cute little sandwiches. Here, let me give you the directions…"

And so, an hour later, I found myself sitting at a booth with my ex's fiancée. Scott took a rain check on this particular occasion, something that I was fairly relieved to see. She was easy enough to handle because she was so nice. Having Scott there would have added endless degrees of awkwardness to the situation.

"So," Cynthia asked me, stirring her overly-creamy coffee, "how've you been? How's your boyfriend? I think I saw him that night at the bar, right?"

I nodded, remembering that night. "I've been…" Suddenly, I didn't see any point in lying to make myself sound better to her. "Kind of terrible, to be honest."

She raised her eyebrows, evidently surprised. "How come? If you don't mind my asking, of course."

I opened my mouth, and before I could stop myself, I'd told her everything, starting from the night at the bar and the reasons behind what happened there, to the things Bah had said to me on the phone, to the day before, talking to Perry and how awkward it had been. By the time I'd finished talking we'd each had two refills of coffee and eaten our sandwiches, and I was blinking back tears. As the waitress set down two cinnamon buns, I let out a deep sigh and leaned back. "… which brings us to now."

Cynthia obviously had no idea that she was in for such a heavy-hearted lunch. She wasn't smiling now, but was eyeing me with such sincere concern that I felt tears start rolling down my cheeks. "I'm sorry that you've been going through such a hard time," she said slowly. "but it kind of seems like you have the solution already figured out." She used her fork to cut a piece of her cinnamon bun off, and ate it with apparent relish. "Try yours," she said winningly, her overly happy nature restored.

I did. It was delicious.

I invited Perry to my apartment to watch the America/Russia game on February 22nd, on my (newly repaired) television. I had thought a lot about what Bah had told me, and I understood what he meant. Perry had been there for me since the moment we'd met, but I wasn't able to see it until just then. As much as I'd liked (or even Loved) Mark, he wasn't the guy. As much as I'd wanted him to be for such a long time, he wasn't. He was just a guy who was nice enough to take me to my hotel in Colorado and take care of me for a night.

"I'm actually really sorry," Perry told me, scrambling around on his hands and knees on the floor with a dishrag, trying to sponge up the rest of the Pepsi that he had spilled on the floor when Mark had scored in the last second of the first period. "I was just so upset when that _rat bastard_ scored that I couldn't control myself."

I laughed, picking my feet off the floor when he neared them with the rag. "It's okay."

Perry disappeared into the kitchen to throw the rag into the sink and came back, flopping down beside me. We watched commercials for a minute before he said, "Do you miss him?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Yeah," I said, screwing my mouth up. "I do. Almost every single day. But then I think that if he wanted anything to do with me, he'd call. He'd make some kind of effort. And every day he disappoints me."

His face wore a concerned expression as he put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me tight against his side. "His mistake."

His words brought back what Bah had told me for the millionth time. I looked up at him. "Tell me something."

"Sure."

"On a scale of one to ten, how hard was it to be my friend when all I did was talk about Mark?"

He looked down at me to confirm that I wasn't kidding. "Eight and a half," he said after a second. "And it would have been ten, but I knew that it was going to come falling down sooner or later." I grimaced at him. "I'm serious," he said, chuckling. "I think I told you that the first time you and I ever talked. I said he'd screw you over. But it was still hard watching you wander along through it, completely clueless."

"Well thanks for warning me. Are you sure those 'feelings' for me that you always say you have had nothing to do with it?"

Perry looked kind of uncomfortable, for probably the first time since I'd known him. "Well, no," he said. "Obviously they did. You're the only girl who I can talk to like this. You're special, Victoria. You might not think you are. Johnson really fucked up."

"So I've heard," I said, leaning my head on his shoulder. "You know what I think?"

"Hmm?"

"It should have always been you."

He looked down at me, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"I shouldn't have even been in Colorado. I shouldn't have met those guys; Mark. I would have met you a few weeks after that. You really care about me, for some reason and I've always taken advantage of that."

Perry frowned, pushing himself away from me. "What are you talking about right now? We're friends, Victoria. The fact that I have feelings for you takes a backseat. It always has. I'd rather be your friend."

I leaned closer to him. "You sure about that?"

"Well, no. But anything else has never been an option, so I just take what I can get."

"How romantic of you. What if it was an option?"

He gave me a long look. "What's wrong with you tonight?"

I slumped back away from him. "Well, that's hardly the answer I was looking for."

"Well, Jesus. You can't be serious."

I didn't say anything.

He elbowed me and I turned to look at him again. "Hey. What's this all about?"

I let out a deep sigh. "Okay. So, Bah told me that you were the real deal."

I had paused, and apparently Perry thought that was all I had to say, because he said, "I don't know this Bob guy, but—"

"Bah."

"Whatever, Bah. I mean—"

"And I did a lot of thinking about it for the last little while, and I think he might have been right, you know? You're basically a better guy than Mark was. Is. I said it before; you would have been a way smarter choice to begin with, and I can't understand why I didn't see it before, honestly."

Perry cocked his head to the side. "Don't get me wrong, but is that what you actually think? Because, and just tell me if I'm off base by saying this, you just got out of a relationship that ended pretty badly, I thought. How do I know that you're not just saying this to make yourself feel better?"

"You mean," I grinned at him and he continued to look uncomfortable, "you don't want to be my 'rebound action'?"

He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Well, since you put it that way… yeah, I guess so. I mean, hearing you say these kinds of things is an absolute dream come true, you've gotta know that. But I don't want it if you don't mean it."

I leaned against the arm of the couch, regarding him seriously. "What gave you the impression that I don't mean it?"

Perry stared at me for a few moments, and I stared back. After a minute, he scoffed and turned away. "This is a stupid conversation. I hate when girls play games."

"I'm not playing games, Grumpy. I'm being serious. You're just making it more complicated than it has to be. You're worse than any girl I've ever met."

He folded his arms and shook his head. "It's stupid and you know it. I'm not going to sit here and try to guess what you're thinking."

He wasn't trying to be, but he was being pretty amusing. "I'm not trying to trick you into saying or doing anything, _Lance_. I just want you to know that you don't have to pretend you don't care anymore."

He scoffed and continued to shake his head. "It's never that easy. Nothing ever is."

The hockey game had started again. We were quiet for a minute as the players skated out to the sound of the announcer talking. "What if it was, though?" I asked him after the puck was dropped.

Perry didn't say anything for a few seconds. "Well, then, I'd say that you're easy." He turned his head to look at me, grinning. He lifted an arm up and I scooted under it, settling next to him comfortably. "But I'm okay with that."


	34. Chapter 34

**Oh ho ho! Look at this! It hasn't been three or four months! I'm so proud of myself it's almost embarrassing. **

**Okay, so based on my three reviews and what I drew from them, the ending that I'm pursuing with this story is horrendously unpopular. This is kinda sad to me, because I've actually been planning for this ending since about the second chapter. I'll set up my torch and pitchfork-proof barriers, but first I'm gonna address the reviewers directly again (and to all of you who decide not to review, you're totally screwing yourself out of an overly-wordy, slightly pretentious response. So, you know. There you go): **

**Jolena:**** Hey! You made it back! Thanks for reviewing again. You absolutely blew my mind when I came on here to check the reviews and saw that I had _that_ many reviews, but as it turned out, they were mostly from you! :) Don't worry about it; I had a little laugh over that. Anyway, I appreciate your comments about your opinions on Mark and Vic's relationship. They perfectly described what I was sort of going for. I mean, in real life things don't go according to plan most of the time, and I like to try and imitate that. Sure, Vic was dead set on being with Mark, but life got in the way in one way or another. Anyway, I hope you get the closure you were hoping for in this chapter. :) **

**tracknumberfive:**** Hey, I'm really sorry about breaking your heart. I didn't mean to, I swear! Thanks for reviewing in spite of my devious ways, though. I really value your comments and concerns. Vic's comments about Perry being a better person than Mark were, in my head, her way of justifying the fact that she suddenly felt like she was expected to move on to him. Not how I felt at all. I feel like people have a tendency to move on faster than they need to, to prove that they're alright, either to other people or to themselves. I think Vic's was a classic case of this happening. You were another one who demanded closure, so I hope you get it in this chapter. Enjoy! **

**Peachy65:**** Nice to see you back reviewing. :) I'm pretty sure that Perry's a smart enough guy to avoid being "rebound" action, but Vic might not be. You'll just have to read to find out (as I type this with the fully-written chapter just below... oh, me). Oh, and after this, I think I might have one more chapter, kind of an epilogue to sort of tie it up. 34 chapters is a lot of chapters. I did not intend for this to be as long as it's gotten, at all. Anyway, I hope you like this second-last chapter. **

* * *

After that night, Perry and I were not immediately a couple. I mean, of course we weren't. That would have looked just awful. There was, however, a kind of unspoken agreement between us that it _would_ happen, at some point in the not-too-distant future. It was like knowing that someone was planning you a surprise birthday party, but not knowing when they were going to spring it on you. I won't lie. I hated it. Mostly because unspoken agreements come with a bucketful of rules which are also unspoken. For example, "No kissing or touching in a couple-ish way until we are officially a couple." We never discussed it, but it was a rule. My major concern was that because of this, I had no way of knowing the moment when it was _Official_. Perry didn't care. I could tell. It infuriated me.

The upside to this was that I found myself thinking about Mark less and less. Sure, I still missed him. Watching the Soviet/America game on television, I was jolted to see Leslie on the ice with the team, laughing and carrying on like she had been friends with them all along. The worst was seeing the camera focus on Jimmy Craig, searching the stands for his father, and Leslie running to him and pointing him out, like they were old friends. I hated them both. It was strange to me to think that if things hadn't gotten so screwed up, it could have been me there. But I couldn't deny that I was happy for the boys for winning that gold medal. I sat next to Perry with tears rolling down my face when they beat Finland. It struck me that during the time I was with Mark, I had actually made a few friends in some of the boys that I cared about a lot.

As for Mark and I, we didn't speak for a long time, and I became more and more accepting that we wouldn't. Literally one of the last things he'd ever said to me was that he was going to call me back, so as far as I was concerned, the ball was in his court. He could call if he wanted to. I had other things to worry about.

Four months later, I was being dragged out of my apartment. "Honestly, Perry," I said, feeling almost like he was going to pull my arm right out of its socket. "We have to be up early tomorrow for work."

"Sure, I know that," he told me, happily yanking on my arm, "but it's not every day that your… your Perry turns twenty, right? Why not live a little, hermit?"

Perry continued on as if I hadn't noticed his little slip-up, but it was hard not to notice. It had been four months of straight rigmarole. We had about as good of an idea of what we were as we did in February. _And I still didn't think he cared._

"I didn't think you'd pull out all the stops. I was going to cook for you. And I don't know how you were raised, but on your birthday, people generally buy _you_ things, not the other way around."

He scoffed. "Well, aren't you just a winner. I go out and buy you a dress, which I think is pretty nice, considering I picked it out, and you don't even appreciate it."

It actually _was_ a nice dress. Just a simple "little black" number, but nice nonetheless. I sighed. "Okay. Since you're such a good guy and went out and picked out an outfit just for tonight, I suppose we can go out and have a good time."

Perry straightened his tie, which he looked incredibly uncomfortable wearing, paired with a jacket and dress pants. "To be completely honest, I got a lot of help from a salesgirl. I think she thought I was going to give the dress to her. I kept on asking for her opinion. She was cute, though."

I whacked his arm. "You're an ass."

He winked at me. "I know."

We pulled up to a restaurant that I knew for a fact he (or I) couldn't afford. I opened my mouth to protest, but Perry clapped a hand over my mouth, his face serious. "Don't say anything, okay? I actually really wanted to make tonight a nice night. We never really do stuff like this, and I think we should. I think it's because you're so boring."

I let out a growl and bit his hand. "You're the worst."

"That's not what I've heard."

I shook my head at him and reached for the door handle. "No no no no wait," Perry said hurriedly, opening his own door and running around the front of the truck to open my door. "I thought you'd know by now that this how it works."

Trying my hardest to keep my grumbling to a minimum (it was, after all, his birthday), I walked beside him into the restaurant.

I saw him immediately. Sitting at a table near the door, wearing a suit, holding a glass of what looked like whiskey in the air, his elbow placed unceremoniously on the table. Mark Johnson looked about as in place in a fancy restaurant as I did.

There was a scuffling of feet as I took a step forward, trying to just hurry into the restaurant to avoid him, and then as a took a few steps back when I decided that this was stupid, with a few steps in other directions just because I was probably out of my mind.

"_Jesus_," Perry muttered, digging an elbow into my side, "what's _wrong_ with you? You look like a scared horse." I made a garbled, mumbling sound, deciding to stand as close to him as I could. Realizing that something was genuinely wrong, Perry looked around. "Oh," he said out loud, probably louder than he needed to. Just "oh". Nothing else.

The host was eyeing us with great disdain. "Table for...?" he said after a while in a nasally voice.

Perry snapped back to reality. He had been looking down as if trying to figure something out. "Oh," he said again. "I have a reservation under Perry, for two."

The host, or Brent as his nametag informed me, nodded gravely as he consulted his book. "Alright," he said. "Right this way."

Before he could move, Perry took a step forward and, casting a conspiratorial glance around, said, "If it's alright, we'd like to be seated on this side of the restaurant." He gestured at the other side, away from Mark.

Brent gave a small sniff and replied, "If that's what you want, sir. Please follow me."

We were seated at a table for two, conveniently hidden behind a kind of pillar, and we actually enjoyed a delicious (albeit expensive meal). Perry ordered a steak, and I had salmon. Everything went off without a hitch until I decided to use the washroom before we left.

Just as I was leaving, I felt my shoulder collide with something. I looked up and was immediately horrified. I was staring into Mark's equally horrified face. Since we were trapped in the close quarters of the hallway leading to the bathroom, I had no choice but to speak.

"Um, hi."

He gulped. "Hey. How've you been?"

I thought this was an interesting choice of words. I put my hand on my hip with some difficulty and wondered why the hell the hallway was so small before I realized that it was me standing so close to him. I took a stealthy step back. I will not be petty, I will not be petty, I told myself, counting slowly to ten before I answered him. "Oh, you know. Still waiting for your phone call. Just sitting around, waiting for you to call me back. The usual." This was a pitiful attempt at not being petty.

Mark's face went from an expression of discomfort to annoyance. "You talked to Bah, didn't you? The two of you got it all figured out."

Without realizing that we were in public, I burst out, "Oh, so you _were_ going to call me, huh? You were? Just haven't gotten around to it? Too busy basking in the glory of being a national hero?" He looked disgusted with me. I was actually a little disgusted with me. "Okay, look. That was pretty low."

"You think?" he said, pushing past me and back into the dining area.

I dodged around tables, trying to figure out why the _hell_ it was _me_ chasing after him, trying to apologize. "Mark, wait," I said, passing my table and hissing, "It's gonna be another minute, Perry," before carrying on. "_Mark_." I said loudly, and people started to look at us. He stopped and turned to look at me. Thinking that this was like something out of a shitty romance novel, I said, "Come outside and talk to me. You at least owe me that."

He appeared to think about it for a second before jerking his chin in the direction of the door and disappearing out of it. I followed him outside, noticing as I left that he had been sitting at his table with Billy Baker and Rob Maclanahan. They awkwardly raised their hands in greeting to me as I passed them.

Once we were in the (relative) privacy of the sidewalk, Mark spun around and looked at me expectantly. We stared at each other for a moment before it dawned on me that I wasn't really the one in this situation that needed to be explaining anything. I hadn't really done anything wrong. Well, at least, not in the context of our argument. After another tense few seconds, his confrontational face fell and he looked down at his overly shiny dress shoes. "There's nothing I can say to make this better," he said in a voice so quiet that I almost didn't hear him as a few cars passed us. "You'll always think of me as the guy who did what I did to you, no matter what I say right now."

I almost laughed. Little did he know that I wasn't nearly as bitter about it as I was letting on. Sure, I'd spent full nights awake thinking back on the whole "Mark Johnson" experience and as much as I hated how it ended, I didn't regret anything that had happened prior to that. I didn't regret the time we spent together, eating my shitty food; I didn't regret telling him I loved him; and I didn't regret sleeping with him. "You meant too much to only be that guy," I replied, balling up my fists. I will not cry, I told myself. That worked about as well as my telling myself not to be petty. When Mark looked up again, there were tears streaming down my face. His mouth fell open and he resumed his studying of his shoes.

"For what it's worth," he said after a while, "I really am sorry. It was so stupid of me to let it end like that."

"So then why did you?" I burst out, catching the attention of a woman and her daughter walking down the street. I tactfully lowered my voice. "Why let it end like that?"

Mark exhaled loudly through his nose and focussed on a spot directly to the left of me. "It's not going to be what you want to hear." He slowly loosened his tie with the air of someone doing so just to be doing something, and then raised his eyes to mine for the briefest of moments. "It was Leslie."

For a moment, I internally congratulated him for being so honest. Then I actually took a second to think about it. "What?" I said after a second, and before he could answer, I reiterated in case he hadn't heard. "_What_?"

He took another deep breath and exhaled through his nose again, and I hoped for a second that he wasn't hyperventilating. "Before I tell you what happened, I need you to tell me that you're going to listen to everything I have to say, alright?" He eyed me evenly for a long moment before I realized that I was expected to respond. I gave a quick nod and he continued: "Just after you left, she showed up at my place. She'd been staying next door in Jimmy's room and had heard the whole argument."

I bit back a tirade of comments about her being a nosy little bitch, remembering my promise to listen to him.

Mark looked momentarily sheepish. "I guess a lot of people heard us. I honestly didn't know that she was staying there. Anyway, she told me that she had had feelings for me for a long time before we slept together—so I guess you were right about that—and told me that she didn't mind me living in Pittsburgh, because she was willing to go wherever I was to be with me. I'm not saying that that's what I think you should have done," he said quickly, seeing me about to interrupt, "I'm just saying that's what she said. We ended up talking for a long time after that, until just before I left to get on the bus, and by the end of our talk we'd decided that it would be a good idea to try things out between us, just so we could know if it'd work or not."

I thought that was just an awful reason for trying out a relationship, but I remained silent, impressing myself with my restraint. Mark rubbed his chin with the heel of his hand, studying me for signs of wanting to stop him from talking. After a few seconds of silence, I said, "Is that the whole story?"

He shook his head. "No. Look, I know the phone call in Chicago was less than sensitive, and it was a terrible way to let you know that I didn't want to try anymore, but you have to know that I was actually really torn about it. On one hand, I had you, who I was genuinely in love with," he said, and I cringed when he said "was". "And then on the other hand I had Leslie, who I felt like I owed something to, you know? I made her feel like dirt for so long, just coasting along and doing my own thing, forgetting that she felt that way about me. She deserved a chance, I guess is what I mean. That's not the only reason why I decided this," he quickly corrected, seeing my expression change abruptly, "She really got me thinking about what the feelings I _did_ have for her meant, you know? I know I'm not making a lot of sense, but it makes sense to me. I mean, it's been four months. Are you still mad?"

This question struck me as being a little immature, like a little kid asking his mother if he was still in trouble for breaking one of her best dishes. "Am I being insensitive of your newfound happiness if I say yes?" I asked, deciding to be immature as well.

He shook his head. "No, you're not. You have every right to be mad at me, Vic. But the more that I think about it, the more I realize that it wasn't actually meant to be. And you deserve to be happy, too. You deserve to be given everything that I wasn't able to give you. I really hope you find that someday."

I thought of Perry, who by this point was probably pushing the remnants of his meal around on his plate waiting for me to come back, and I smiled in spite of myself. "I think I'll be just fine, now that I think of it."

He surveyed my face carefully, apparently checking to make sure I wasn't going to fall to pieces. I was suddenly aware that I wasn't going to. Suddenly, I was past everything that happened. I obviously still had feelings for the person in front of me, but I knew right then that it would be alright. Maybe that was another miracle. I didn't know whether to trust my own feelings. It almost didn't seem right that everything had worked itself out in the end. I nodded once, decisively. "I feel better about this now," I said, more to myself than to him. "I feel like I know what I have to do now."

Mark cocked his head to the side, a smile tugging the corner of his lips. "I know this is cliché, but is it out of the question to ask to be friends now?"

I laughed. "No, it's not. You can definitely look me up when you're in the city. We'll go grab a beer or something."

"Only if it's not too many beer."

It seemed surreal to walk back into that restaurant beside Mark, knowing that things weren't fixed in the way that I wanted them to be fixed, but if I gave them a chance to be, they could be better.

I walked up behind Perry and gripped his shoulders. He jumped, startled, and turned around. "Is everything…" he let his question trail off, seeing that I wasn't nearly as tear stained as he probably expected me to be. "It is. Do you wanna get out of here? I already got the bill."

"You paid on your birthday? That hardly makes sense," I told him, walking with him back towards the door. On the way out, I waved at the boys again and when they waved back, there was no awkwardness.

"Got it figured out, did we?" Perry asked as we stepped out onto the street.

I nodded slowly, and then surprised both of us by slipping my arm through his, breaking our rule. "Yeah. It's going to be okay now, I think. I'm with you."

Grinning, Perry replied, "Good to know. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Can I kiss you?"

I stopped walking at the same time he did and turned to look at him. "I was hardly able to stop you before," I said, smiling at him, and when he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine, it became very clear to me.

Everything was going to be just fine.


	35. Chapter 35

**Man. Man oh man. I actually finished this. Like, completely finished it. This is the second time I've ever finished a story that people actually _read _(well, with the exception of a Harry Potter fanfiction that you can even _find_ online anymore. Trust me, you don't want to). Okay. So, I'll save the big, rambling thank-you note for the end of the story, and just address the review: **

**Jolena****: Yeah, I actually didn't intend for Leslie to come out as being such a little bitch, but that's just how it worked out. She knew what she wanted, was basically what happened, and she didn't care what she had to do to get that. I'm also glad that you're not mad at me for not having Vic end up with Mark. I actually considered writing an alternate ending for it where they _did_ get back together, but in the end I think everyone who had a problem with it sort of got over it, and I decided not to. Yeah, in retrospect, I should have thrown in a few more clues of a possible turn-around with Vic and Perry together, so it wouldn't had been such an awful thing when it did happen. Oh well, I suppose. An OC/OC is something basically (as far as I've seen) unexplored territory in Miracle fanfiction (but for very good reason-why would it need to be? You have all those cute hockey players!), and I thought I'd give it a try to see how people liked it. Lastly, I'd say that I had it in the back of my mind that Vic wouldn't end up with Mark from the very beginning, but I just needed to figure out who that other person would be. So I guess what I said before about the idea coming to me at Chapter 2 or whatever was kind of inaccurate. I had actually thought that it would be Bah to begin with, but in the end I decided to go with Perry because I liked him better. Anyway. This is so long. I hope you enjoy this last chapter! :) **

Lance Perry and I were married on September 3rd, 1984. After that night when Perry kissed me for the first (well, second, I suppose) time, there was no more rigmarole. We made the transition from best friends to devoted couple at almost an uncomfortable pace, but I didn't mind because it felt right. You know how in the movies, when the couple fights for the entire film, but then at the end sort out their differences and decide that being together is the best idea ever, and the entire audience just assumes that they broke up moments after the credits rolled? It was like that, except I knew it would last. It wasn't logical, but I didn't really need it to be.

Then, two years later, completely drained from his divorce, Rusty informed us that he was going to sell the store. Perry and I were both (still) working there at this time while we went to university—him in business and me working on an English degree, having given up on the Journalism program. With a decisiveness that made me shudder, Perry announced that he was going to buy the store from Rusty, to keep the business running. Naturally, Rusty agreed, but he made Perry promise that he would keep the name of the store the same, and he did.

In January of 1988, Perry (or Lance as he insisted on being called post-1986, because he was an _adult_; a business owner) and I had our first kid—a son, Joseph. By this time, we were both out of school and running the store to pay off ridiculous amounts of student loans, but we were happy. The three of us—me, Lance, and Joey.

It became four in March of 1990, when Allie was born, and then five in October, 1991 when Carter arrived. We had it all—a family business, run by a big, happy family, and I didn't think that I could have been more pleased with how my life had played out.

Wade ended up getting a hockey scholarship to NYU, and he stayed in New York to marry a girl (who he had met while shopping at Ralph Lauren one day) in 1989. He and Lance actually ended up being really good friends, considering their questionable first impression of each other.

As for Mark Johnson, we did meet up again for that beer, but our valiant attempt at a friendship fizzled out sometime after we both got married. I thought that was a fairly acceptable amount of time to remain friends with someone who you cared about that much and I knew that if I ever _did_ see him again, it wouldn't be weird. We were adults, and the very least we could do was act like it.

**Minneapolis, Minnesota, May, 2009**

The bell above the door jingled, and I looked up, startled out of a rousing game of solitaire on the computer. A pretty blonde girl entered the store, looking around at the merchandise appreciatively. She looked to be about fifteen or so, and was carrying a small blue duffel bag. I hope she isn't going to rob the place, I thought to myself as she approached the counter. "Hey," she said confidently, and I took a closer look at her. She seemed familiar somehow but I couldn't place her face. In the end, I decided that she probably went to school with Carter or something.

"Hi there," I replied, smiling at her and getting off the chair to stand in front of the counter. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Maybe," she told me, shifting the duffel bag onto the counter. "Would you like to buy some chocolate-covered almonds or peanuts to help support my hockey team's trip to Boston this summer?"

I reached for a key hanging under the counter, which unlocked the drawer where my purse was. "Sure," I told her. "I'll take a box of each. How much do I owe you?"

Before she could answer, Carter sidled up, a pair of headphones hanging by the back of his neck. I had completely forgotten that he had been unpacking boxes in the back. He was ignoring me, though, having noticed the pretty girl standing at the counter. "Hey," he said cavalierly, holding out a hand for her to shake. "Carter Perry. What's up?" I shook my head discreetly, pulling my purse from the drawer. Just like his father. It's not just his personality, either. His dark blond hair and blue eyes make him look exactly like Lance did when he and I first met.

"Mikayla," she offered, shaking his hand daintily. "They're three bucks for a box," she told me, discarding his hand after holding onto it for the proper length of time.

Carter refused to give up, though. "What are you selling? Girl Scout Cookies?" he tried again, and winked at me as I gave him a patronizing look. _Exactly_ like his father.

Mikayla shook her head. "No, it's almonds and peanuts. I'm fundraising," she added, and then I noticed that she looked almost furious with herself for allowing him some other conversation topic to pursue.

Carter refrained, however, and dug in his pocket for his wallet. "Really? Three bucks a piece, huh? I'll take five of the peanuts, please." I gave Carter another incredulous look. He had been, as he had put to me a few nights previous at dinner, "on the strictest diet you can ever imagine", to help himself get in shape for the upcoming hockey season. Five boxes of chocolate-covered peanuts were hardly strict.

"Uhh…" She looked a bit at a loss. "I only brought in three of each," she explained, and then pulled out a cell phone. "Let me just text my dad to bring more in." She seemed to think that if she left we would change our minds about buying.

"Cool," Carter said, grinning. "What are you fundraising for?"

Mikayla looked up from her phone and slid it back into the pocket of her jeans. "A trip that my hockey team is taking in August," she told him. "We're going to Boston." She seemed to be a bit more eager to talk now, probably because Carter was buying fifteen dollars worth of her candy.

Whatever Brownie Points this girl had earned before because of her looks, they tripled in Carter's eyes when she mentioned that she played hockey. Girls who played hockey, in his opinion, were "the mintest of the mint, Mom". He leaned against the counter, propping his elbows up against it and flexing slightly. "Oh yeah? That's so cool. I was just in Boston last month to check out Northwestern. Are you from around here?" He wasn't telling her a boat-load of lies, but he was really laying it on thick, and I wondered if he realized that this girl was probably about four years younger than him, by the looks of her.

"No, I'm actually from Wisconsin, but I'm helping my dad move here this weekend."

"Well, maybe you should come visit him this summer, and we can hang or something."

I was actually sincerely hoping at that point that my son wasn't coming off as being supremely creepy. He had always possessed that certain, Ferris Bueller-esque charisma that somehow allowed him to do things and speak to people without worrying about what they would think of him. When he was fifteen, he did a highly popular rendition of "Against All Odds" by Phil Collins in front of about three-hundred people at a school fundraiser. Somehow I had ended up with a charming kid. This bravery made him almost shameless, which explained why he was attempting to pick this girl up right in front of his mother. These qualities had made him strangely popular with girls. I'd been getting calls from disgruntled mothers of girls who Carter had upset (as if it was _my_ fault) since he started Junior High.

But Mikayla seemed more interested, which was odd to me. Maybe it was because Carter had mentioned the fact that he was checking out universities, alluding to the fact that he was older and perhaps cooler. It had been a while since I was fifteen. Mikayla brushed a bit of hair behind her ear and quickly checked her phone again. "Maybe," she said, smiling at him.

The bell above the door jingled again and a man, presumably the girl's father, walked in carrying more chocolate. It took me a minute to recognize him. After all, I hadn't seen Mark Johnson for over thirty years. When I did recognize him, I started to laugh out loud. Carter shot me a disgusted look, probably thinking that I was laughing at his technique.

Mark did a double-take. A comical one, and for a second I was fairly sure that he was kidding. "Vic?" he asked in a mystified kind of voice.

I continued to laugh. Of course this girl would be his daughter. _Of course_. When I actually thought about it, Mikayla did actually look like Leslie a bit. "Oh my God," I said, coming out from behind the counter to give him a hug.

Carter and Mikayla were staring at us, evidently confused. "This is my daughter," Mark explained, placing a hand on her shoulder.

I nodded, gesturing at Carter. "My son."

"So you two've, like, met?" Carter asked.

Mark and I exchanged a look and made a quick decision to not mention anything, um, specific. "Uh, yeah," I said, shaking my head at Mark, still bewildered. "We knew each other in the eighties. Carter, this is Mark Johnson."

Carter banged his hand on the counter, making us all jump. "No way. No_ way_. _The_ Mark Johnson?" It was a rhetorical question, but he paused for Mark to nod before he said again, "No way. That's unreal." He turned to Mikayla. "Why didn't you mention that's who your dad was?" Carter had been fascinated with the whole "Miracle on Ice" spectacle of 1980 ever since the 2004 Disney film came out. It was very amusing to his father that a lot of his admiration was directed at Mark Johnson. He nearly blew a blood vessel when I told him that I actually had known a few of the players.

Mikayla appeared to be at a loss. "I don't know," she admitted, unaware that not immediately telling Carter that your dad was one of his favourite "old-school" hockey players was a severe crime.

"Oh man," Carter gushed, apparently unaware that he was gushing like a little girl, "that's crazy. I can't even believe that. Can I have your autograph?" Yes, I thought, he will certainly not be "hanging" with Mikayla any time soon. She looked completely annoyed with him.

Mark laughed a little, but he apparently couldn't refuse a fan. "Sure," he replied. "Got a pen and paper?" Carter moved behind the counter so fast that it made Mark laugh again.

Once the autograph had been signed, Mark took a step back and looked at me again. "It's been so long," he remarked, shaking his head. "Do you own this place now? You and Mr. Perry?"

"Sure do," I said, nodding. Carter had stopped creeping on Mikayla. A more interesting specimen has arrived. "Since 1986."

Mark let out a low whistle. "That's something else. So how is he?" I supposed he meant Lance. "Is it just the three of you?"

"He's doing good. He's actually in New York right now visiting our oldest, Joey, at university there; he lives with my brother Wade, if you remember him…?" Mark nodded, smiling fondly. "Yeah, he's there, and we have another daughter, Allie, who goes to university here. How about you?"

"We have five, actually," Mark said.

"Oh, wow, five," I replied, shaking my head.

"Yeah."

"Did you bring the chocolates in, Dad?" Mikayla cut in, saving us from an awkward silence.

Mark seemed to remember himself. "Oh—right, I did." He set them down on the counter. They were actually bigger boxes of chocolates than you usually saw from fundraising companies, and I guessed that Carter was going to need to share a bit of his, probably with his sister. "Think we should hit the road, kiddo?" he asked his daughter, who shrugged.

"Not if you're visiting."

He looked up at me and we exchanged a look, and he grinned. "Well, if we wanted to actually catch up, you'd be here much longer than you wanted to be, Mick. I think we'd better get going."

I thought to myself that it was odd how little I had in common with Mark now. He actually would rather have left the store than talk. I realized then that it didn't really bother me. Of course it didn't, though. I hadn't talked to him in such a long time.

Mark solemnly shook hands with Carter, who was still looking starry-eyed. "Nice meeting you, Carter," he said.

"Oh, you too, man," Carter said, grasping his hand. "You have no idea… Wow. I can't even…"

I put a hand on my son's shoulder, knocking him out of his little trance. "You owe Mikayla some money, right?"

We paid her and then watched them leave.

"Hey, Mom?" Carter said, popping open a box of his chocolates.

"Hmm?"

He grinned at me. "You're a lot cooler than I give you credit for."

I elbowed him. "Did I not give you work to do?"

Later that night, I was back at home grilling some chicken for dinner. Allie came into the kitchen and sat at the island, propping her elbows up on it. "So, Carter told me that you had a celebrity in the store today. One of his _hockey players_." Allie was adamantly anti-hockey players, which I thought was just great, considering that hockey players were much worse than they used to be, and the fact that she was much prettier than I was at her age. With naturally wavy dark brown hair and Lance's blue eyes, she could have dated any hockey player (or anyone else) she wanted, but, in her words, she preferred "intelligent guys".

I turned the burner down and looked at her. "Yeah, it was Mark Johnson. He was a—"

She waved her hand impatiently at me. "_Miracle_. I know. Carter said. Okay, so, Dad just texted me and said that Joey got Skype set up on his computer. He wanted me to ask you if you wanted to talk to them, like, right away."

I absently checked my cell phone, which was in my pocket. "Why didn't he text me?"

"He hates you."

Somehow all of my children got Lance's insulting sense of humour. "Oh, good. Well, tell him that they can sit in on our dinner if they want. Is Uncle Wade there?"

She shrugged. "Probably. So yes?"

"So yes."

Allie brought her computer downstairs and set it up on the kitchen table. By the time I got dinner cooked, she had already called Carter and they were talking to Lance, Joey and Wade on the computer.

"Smells good," Lance said as I finally sat down. I glared at him and he laughed. "So how was your day? Was the store busy?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Carter interrupted me. "Jesus, Dad. You won't believe who was in the store today. You won't be able to guess."

"Shut up, Carter," Joey told him. I could only see the tops of his feet on the edge of the desk as he probably leaned his chair back against the wall, something I would have reprimanded him for doing if he had been in front of me.

"What?" Carter said, taken aback by this.

Joey leaned his chair back forward with a bang, bringing his face into focus. If Carter was the spitting image of Lance, then Joey would be my double. Or probably Wade's. He ended up with the dark-haired and eyed looks, and his easy-going nature was very similar to Wade's. "How the hell could he guess who came into the store? How many people come in there every day? It could be literally anyone."

Carter, unfazed by his brother as usual, continued. "It was someone from a movie, Dad."

An odd look passed over Lance's face. "Johnson. Mark Johnson?" Wade looked mildly surprised and glanced over at him.

"Yeah, yeah it was him," Carter says, looking kind of disappointed that he guessed it so easily. "His daughter came in selling candy. It was crazy. Joey, you would have went nuts."

Joey snorted. "I'll bet you went all fan girl on him, didn't you? Did you get his autograph?"

When Carter held up the scrap of paper that had Mark signed, a look of unmistakable jealousy appeared on Joey's face. "That's mine when I get home."

Wade gave a little laugh. "How is old Johnson, Victoria?"

I rolled my eyes. "He's the same. He's exactly the same." I then decide that it's almost time to change the subject. "Where's Celeste, Wade?" Celeste was Wade's wife.

He looked around. "She's around," he concluded. "Not here, but around. Don't change the subject. We were just talking about Carter's idol. Isn't it funny that you knew him all those years ago and now your son just thinks the world of him? That's so funny, isn't it, Perry?"

"Which one of us is Perry?" Allie asked, looking up from her dinner.

"Don't worry about it," Wade, Lance and I said in chorus.

* * *

**Shit, so that's it. I'm done. That's crazy. Almost two years later. Weird, I was pretty sure that I'd started this story in March. So very wrong, apparently. May, March, whatever, I guess. I'd just like to thank all the people who read and reviewed this story, and were patient with me when I wandered off for months at a time. I really appreciate you guys reading this, and (for those of you who did) giving me support because it motivated me to write more, and sometimes I just needed that little nudge. If anyone has any more questions or anything about the story, it would be a better idea to send them to me directly, because I won't be able to address questions directly from the story anymore. Actually, I thought I'd go through the earlier chapters and kind of re-vamp them to make them better, because I do think that I've gotten better as a writer or changed the tone over these two years. That actually might not happen, depending on how busy I am over the next little bit. OH, and to all you people who read this and don't review, now would be a FANTASTIC time to tell me what you thought of the story, like, overall. Even if you hated it. I know a lot of people say that, and if you actually say something other than something positive, they lose their shit on you. I promise I won't do that. Just tell me what you thought. Anyway, if I still have you reading this, I just wanna say thanks one more time, and have a great summer, everyone! :) 3**


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